


X-Tober 2020

by SilverDaye



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Angstober, Cute, Dark, Dark Luke Skywalker, Darth Vader Lives, Darth Vader Raises Luke Skywalker, Domestic Fluff, Father-Son Relationship, Ficlets, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Flufftober, Flufftober 2020, Gen, One Shot, Prince Luke Skywalker, Suitless Darth Vader, angstober 2020, x-tober
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:27:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 26,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26745115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverDaye/pseuds/SilverDaye
Summary: A collection of ficlets for X-Tober, which is a combination of either Angstober or Flufftober. All Star Wars focusing on Luke Skywalker and Darth Vader.
Relationships: Luke Skywalker & Darth Vader
Comments: 179
Kudos: 503
Collections: Angstober 2020, X-tober 2020





	1. Day 1: "I did it for you!"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vader has been summoned by the Emperor to return to Imperial Center, a place Vader has been avoiding since he handed Luke over to his master.

Vader walked down the loading ramp of his shuttle. There was no greeting party, not like he wanted one. He made his way alone through the Imperial Palace. The few aids he saw, all quickly moved out of the way. The stormtroopers were silent and unmoving at their posts. He didn’t acknowledge them as his thoughts were elsewhere. 

He had been summoned away from his fleet, away from hunting down the Rebels . . . from hunting down his daughter. Once he found her, she would join him and together they would . . . 

There was a heavy weight in his chest. They would what? No. She would not join him. Not like Luke had agreed to. 

Luke with his blue eyes so much like his had once been. Blue eyes that had looked at him so softly, much like a Nubian senator had, and said he would go with his father. Blue eyes that had silently pleaded with that same father to help him as Force lightning tore through him. Blue eyes that had been glazed over and lifeless the last time Vader had seen them from behind the ray shield of a cell. 

Luke had agreed to come with Vader but had not agreed to turn to the Dark Side, especially as the Emperor’s apprentice. And he had been punished for it. He should have been killed as if the Emperor would allow such a strong Force user to live who wasn’t devoted to him. But Luke’s slow torture was also torture for Vader, so he had fled unable to look at his son’s fading blue eyes. He ran away to his fleet and buried himself in his work hoping to escape, but he hadn’t. The Force carried the echoes of Luke’s screams across the lightyears. 

One time a faint call had risen up to answer them. It wasn’t Vader. It was her. His daughter. He had a daughter. In a single moment, Vader’s purpose had changed. It had happened before when a bounty hunter uttered the name ‘Skywalker.’ He would find her, just as he had Luke. He wouldn’t turn her over to the Emperor. Not this time. Together they would--

His thoughts cut off as he arrived at the turbolift that would take him to the throne room. The doors slid open and he entered. The first thing he noticed upon exiting was the lack of guards. There were almost always guards. The Emperor loved his displays of power. His little reminders he was in control. Even if it was a meeting between just the two of them . . . unless . . . things were going to get personal. 

A frown pulled on his scarred lips. This did not bode well. Had the Emperor discovered the truth about his daughter? Had Luke known about her? And he finally cracked? Thoughts swirled in his head as he started up the steps. The throne was turned around, but he still bowed down to one knee as he reached the top. 

“You summoned me, my master?” Vader asked. His voice void of any emotion. Void of any of the internal conflict threatening to pour through any cracks should they appear.

A second passed by. Then another. The sound of his mechanical breathing filled it. He lifted his head, but the chair was still turned around. Should he say something? 

It was then the chair turned around, and sitting in it, with one leg propped up on the armrest, was not Emperor Palpatine, but Luke. Luke, his son, dressed in all black. Luke, the son of Padme, with glowing red-rimmed golden eyes and a twisted smile on his face. 

Vader was on his feet at once. 

“Well?” Luke asked. “What do you think? I think the throne suits me.” His twisted smile grew. 

“Where is the Emperor?” Vader asked. 

Luke slid his leg off the armrest and leaned over placing his elbows on his legs. “Dead,” he said. 

The Force confirmed the words. Truth. Luke was telling the truth. 

“You . . . _killed_ the Emperor?” 

“ _Former_ Emperor, Father,” Luke said.

“When? How long ago has it been?” Vader asked stepping up to the throne. Luke leaned back. 

“Why does that matter?”

“Do you realize what you have done?” Vader asked pointing a finger at his son. 

The smile fell from Luke’s face and twisted into a frown. 

“Do _you_?” Luke growled. He stood up and glared up at Vader. “I have freed the galaxy.” 

“No one is free, yet. Palpatine had plans, fail-safes, contingency plans if he ever fell unexpectedly.”

Luke narrowed his eyes. “I did this for you,” he hissed.

Vader’s helmet lowered. “And not for you?” 

Luke stiffened. He looked away as his eyes grew distant. There was a shudder in the Force as memories ran through him. Vader couldn’t see anything, but he could feel them. The pain. The fear. The desperation and desolation. But it disappeared sharply as if it was being cut off. When Vader looked back at his son, Luke was looking at him. His face hard, but his eyes were watery. 

His Sith eyes. Luke had fallen. The Emperor . . . had succeeded . . . in turning him . . . 

“So. Tell me about these plans Palpatine had,” Luke purred. Any signs of distress had vanished. “If worse comes to worst, it seems like the Empire might need a bit of culling.” The devilish smile returned and grew and grew. “Oh, and Father? Tell me how my dear sister is doing.” 


	2. Day 2: Stolen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Republic has fallen. The Empire has risen. Obi-Wan is on the run, but Vader is closing in.

Obi-Wan gripped his lightsaber tighter as he looked over his shoulder. The thin alleyway was empty, and he glanced up along the sides of the buildings. Nothing stirred except for a slight breeze. He turned and ran on. He couldn't waste too much time, and though he didn't see anything he could still feel it in the Force. The wrongness. The inky coldness. The Dark Side.

He ran on making his way through a maze of alleyways and sidestreets of the metropolis on some mid-rim world. If he paused for a moment he would be able to easily and quickly recall its name, but right now he couldn't afford to lose his focus even for a second . . .

A streak red sliced down at him. He barely managed to jump out of the way of the lightsaber and could feel the heat against the body. Smell the slight singe as the beam caught a few threads and hairs.

"Obi-Wan," hissed a voice. An all too familiar voice.

A million replies went through Obi-Wan's mind, but he said none of them. He only gritted his teeth, lit his lightsaber, and shifted into a defensive stance.

The other figure had been hunched over, but now straightened up. The red glow of the lightsaber illuminating the features. Darth Vader didn't look that different from Anakin Skywalker. They had the same face. The same scar next to the right eye. The same long hair. The differences were that Darth Vader wore all black robes and his eyes, a shiver ran Obi-Wan looking at them, his eyes were a sickly yellow rimmed in a bleeding red.

Vader slowly raised his lightsaber and pointed it at Ob-Wan. "Where are they?" Vader growled.

"Far away from here. From you."

"Liar."

"I am not lying, Darth."

Obi-Wan wasn't lying as the ship had already taken off and gone into hyperspace.

"You can't hide them forever. I will find them, Obi-Wan. One way or another I will find my children. They will be by my side!"

"They are _not your_ children, Darth Vader. You lost your claim to them when you raised your hand to their moth-"

"Do not speak of her!" Vader shouted. "You turned her away from me! You stole my children!"

"I have stolen nothing."

Obi-Wan spun his lightsaber and pulled it over of his head as he moved into his ready stance. Vader let out an angry scream as he dashed forward. Their sabers hissed as that struck against each other. Sparks scattered across the alley as their sabers dug into the ground and walls. The two pressed on. Blows were knocked aside. Slashes were avoided. Punches and kicks were blocked. Until . . . until . . .

Obi-Wan slipped. It had been a split-second of his foot landing poorly, but it had drawn his attention away from Ana- Vader, who of course noticed it and attacked. The red blade slid through Obi-Wan's right arm. The arm, still clutching the ignited blue lightsaber, fell to the alley floor. Obi-Wan gripped the stump of his arm as he stared at it.

Vader smiled as he lazily spun his blade. "Now we match," he joked. With a flick of his fingers and the Force, Obi-Wan's lightsaber flew into Vader's free hand. "Tell me where my children are."

"Never."

Vader's eyes narrowed. He raised the blue blade and pointed it Obi-Wan's left arm.

"You have plenty of limbs left," Vader said. "How many will you loose until you tell me the truth?"

Obi-Wan glared up at him. At the Sith lord known as Darth Vader, who used to be Anakin Skywalker. The boy Obi-Wan had taken in and trained and raised. The boy he loved like a brother. But that dear boy was gone. Yoda was right. Anakin was dead and consumed by the Dark Side, and Obi-Wan would not allow the twins to share their father's fate.

"You can cut off my head, _Darth_ ," Obi-Wan spat the last word. "I will never tell you."

There was a slight pause. A barely-there flinch in Vader's features. "Very well," he said. He sounded tired. Sad? Whatever it was, it was gone when he next spoke up. "Let's see if that's true."


	3. Day 3: Memory Loss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke managed to save his father on the second Death Star. It was a miracle medics were able to save him, but it was at the cost of all the memories of the man once known as both Darth Vader and Anakin Skywalker. 

"Here," Luke said as he handed his father a cup of caf.

Metal hands grabbed the cup and brought it up to a pale and scarred face. Anakin took a long sip before lowering his cup and nodded his thanks to his son.

"You're breathing sounds much better," Luke said trying to fill the silence.

"Yes," Anakin said. His voice no longer a deep booming bass from the vocoder, but no longer as weak and wheezy as it first was when they freed him from the suit.

Luke glanced down as once again silence fell between them. Why was it so hard to hold a conversation with his father? Perhaps it was because the man in front of him had no memories. Luke had saved his father from the destruction of the second Death Star. Had pleaded with the Alliance to save his life. They had agreed under the condition that Vader would be put on trial. But after months of being in a coma, the man who woke up was far from the feared Supreme Commander of the Empire's Navy. He was a broken man with no memory.

No memory of his life as Darth Vader and the Empire. No memory of his life before as Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker. And no memory of Luke.

Luke had tried to make the best of things. Perhaps this was a fresh start for not only his father but their relationship as well . . . but . . . all that was left was . . . a shell of a man. Confused. Lost. Barely making sense of this world while dealing with multiple surgeries Luke insisted on and dealing with a barrage of questions and accusations from the Alliance. They thought it was too convenient Vader had suddenly lost his memory the moment he was in their hands.

But Luke knew. The Force confirmed it. Darth Vader . . . Anakin Skywalker . . . their memories were gone.

"Perhaps," Anakin suddenly said. "We could go on a walk together?"

Luke gave a small smile and a nod. Anytime Anakin left his quarters, he was always accompanied by two guards. His movements were always reported. Originally there had been a whole squad of guards, but Luke had successfully argued that Anakin couldn't do any harm due to recovering from his injuries. And over the months Anakin showed no signs of Vader's famous violence, and the number of guards decreased. Plus, he was only allowed on such walks if Luke was with him.

Once upon a time, Luke had pestered Anakin to no end in hopes that something would jolt his memory. Yet nothing seemed to work. So now they mostly walked in silence with the two guards trailing behind them at a respectable distance. They were walking along the edge of a large lake that the Alliance base stood by. They were on the planet of Ord Mirit in the Colonies region. It was close to Imperial Center, and the Alliance was using it as their main base as they prepared for an assault on the Empire's capital.

Luke was both excited and dreaded the idea of finally capturing the city planet. Once the Allaince did claim the planet, they planned to formally announce the New Republic. But one of their first acts would be to put Darth Vader on trial.

"Luke."

Luke snapped his head up. He had been lost in thought.

"Yes, Father?"

Anakin smiled. It was shy and timid, but it was there. He was bald and covered in scars, but it wasn't as bad as when he first got out of the suit. The medical team doubted the scars would fade unless they grafted new skin, and they doubted how successful it would be.

"I like coming out here," Anakin said as he looked out along the lake. "It . . . it makes me feel calm. Peaceful. Like . . . there is something good here. Though, I am afraid I cannot recall why that is."

Luke's heart sped up. This was the first time his father had ever mentioned anything being familiar.

"Well if you recall anything, let me know," he said.

Anakin nodded. "Of course."

He slowly walked over to a large rock and sat down, and Luke sat beside him.

"When will your mission start?" Anakin asked.

"They're almost done outfitting the capital ships," Luke said. "And the reinforcements should be arriving next week. Hopefully, we can launch the attack after that."

"Two more weeks?" Anakin whispered.

He knew. Like Luke, he knew what would be coming.

"Yes," Luke whispered back. He reached over and grabbed his father's hand.

"Do you think they'll put me to death after the trial?"

There was a large lump in Luke's throat. It made it hard to swallow, hard to talk. "I . . . I don't know. But I'll fight it."

Anakin squeezed Luke's hand. "Thank you, Luke."

Luke didn't know what he could do if it came down to defending his father in front of the courts, especially all alone, but he wouldn't abandon him. He hoped for life in prison. It wouldn't be a perfect life, not that Vader truly deserved freedom, but at least Luke would still have his father. 

* * *

Ten days later, the base alarm woke Luke up. He grabbed his lightsaber off his nightstand and turned on his comm. The words 'Alert: Attack' blinked in red letters.

"Kriff," he cursed as he rolled out of bed and pulled on his clothes and boots.

When he entered the hallway a klaxon horn was blaring and red lights were flashing. Despite all the noise, he still heard his commlink beep.

"Skywalker," he called out.

"Luke."

"Leia! What's going on?"

"Imperial attack. A whole fleet of star destroyers just jumped out of hyperspace."

"Kriff. How did they manage to pull together so many ships?"

The Empire was scattered after the death of the Emperor. Internal fighting had broken out as the remaining figureheads clawed for control, and the Empire shattered into pieces each ruled by a different moff or general or admiral. There were some who still had a concerning amount of ships, but they were far from the core, except for the First Fleet still defending Imperial Center.

Had they given up their defensive position and abandoned the capital? Was this a preemptive strike? They would have had more warning than this if that was the case. The Alliance had so many eyes on the planet right now. The moment the First Fleet did anything, they would have known. No way they would have been able to surprise them even if it was a very quick jump away.

"Is it the First Fleet?" Luke asked. He had to know.

"No," Leia replied. Her voice grim.

"Who are they? Where are they from?"

"Haven't figured that out. We need you, Luke. Get to your fighter."

He paused.

"I have to get to Father," he said.

Leia moaned. He knew she would be rolling her eyes. She hated thinking of Anakin as her father. "No, you don't," she replied. "Leave him."

"What if this is a rescue attempt?"

"I'm almost tempted to let them take him if that's what they're after," Leia replied bitterly.

"I'm going to check in on him. Then I'll get to my fighter. Have my ship prepared."

"Copy that," Leia said. He could feel the heaviness in her voice. She wanted to say more, and probably would once this was all over. She didn't like that he was prioritizing their father at this moment, but . . . he felt compelled to.

What would he be thinking? Would he be scared?

It wasn't surprising to find more guards than usual, but they let him through. The door slid open and Anakin was pacing his small room with his hands clasped behind his back. He stopped the moment the door opened.

"Luke," he said walking over. His blue eyes ran up and down him. "What is going on? Is everything alright?"

Luke ran his hand through his hair. "It's an attack," he muttered. "They may move you to a more secure location, but don't worry. Everything is going to be fine."

If Anakin had brows, they would have creased. He placed a prosthetic hand on Luke's shoulder. "Luke . . ."

Luke put his own prosthetic hand on top of his father's; Anakin smiled. Luke nodded and tried to step away, but Anakin's grip tightened.

"Father?"

Everything moved in a blur. One minute he was facing his father, the next he was turned around and bent over. His hands were pulled behind his back and heard the distinct clink of cuffs being snapped together. Luke craned his neck over his shoulder to try and see what was going on.

"Father? What is happening?"

"I am sorry, Luke."

A shiver ran down Luke's spin. That . . . that didn't sound like Anakin. Not the Anakin he had gotten to know over these last few months. That voice. The way those words came out . . . it made him think of Vader. Luke stumbled forward, straightened up, and turned around. Anakin stood straight and tall with Luke's lightsaber in his hand.

"What is going on?" he demanded.

Blue eyes stared at him, but they were off. They weren't as blue as they usually were.

Anakin walked over and grabbed Luke's arm. "We're leaving," he said.

"Leaving? Wait . . . this attack . . . _it is_ a rescue attempt. You . . . you have your memories back! When did you get them back?"

Vader ignored the question. "A rescue attempt would mean I was in need of rescuing. This is an extraction."

"This won't work," Luke said softly. "You can't just walk out of here dragging me along. Someone will notice."

Vader pulled Luke to the door. He said nothing as it opened and the guards all snapped to attention, but none of them raised their blaster.

"Lord Vader," one of the guards said with a sharp nod of his head.

A heavy sinking feeling settled in Luke's stomach. Where all these guards . . . Imperials? When? How? 

One them stepped forward and handed Vader a uniform jacket and a helmet. He quickly slipped into both. Someone slammed a uniform helmet down on Luke's head.

"How long?" Luke hissed. "How long have you been pretending?"

Luke had only opened himself up to the Force the first few weeks after Anakin-- Vader woke up from his coma. He had stopped doing so once he was sure that Vader had really lost his memories. They must have come back after that. 

Vader said nothing; he only looked ahead as he grabbed his son's arm and pulled him down the hall.

Luke was surprised that no one way stopped them. Sure a few people glanced at them, but Luke was hidden in the middle of the group. If anyone saw the cuffs on his hands, no one did anything to stop them. The base was in chaos as people ran around to their battle stations. No one had time to question a group of guards. Most likely people assumed they were on their way to help defend the base.

No one stopped them as they entered the hangar. It was filled with mechanics, pilots, droids, and pit crews. A few Luke knew by name. He opened his mouth ready to shout at them, but Vader tightened his grip.

"Don't," he hissed. "Or my men will open fire."

The words died in Luke's throat. They made it to a shuttle completely unharassed.

"Everything is ready, sir," a man waiting in the cabin said.

Vader wasn't looking at him. Instead, his head had turned to look at the row of seats against the wall. Luke looked and everything stopped as his heart sank and his blood ran cold. Leia sat slumped over in a chair with the crash webbing already buckled around her.

"No," Luke whispered. He hadn't meant to say it out loud.

Vader tugged on his arm and pushed him into the seat next to Leia.

"Secure him," Vader barked. "And take off."

"Yes, your majesty," someone said.

"Majesty?" Luke asked.

Vader looked down at Luke. His eyes were completely gold.

"It is time the Emperor returns to his Empire," Vader said slowly. He quickly glanced at Leia and then back at Luke. "With his heirs in tow."


	4. Day 4: Wounded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Set in my Runaway AU. Vader is suitless and emperor and a single father raising his little boy.) Prince Luke is excited his daddy is back from being away for a long time.

"Daddy!" Luke called out.

He had wiggled free of his nanny and the guards and the other guards and pushed the door panel button open with the Force and finally, finally!, he was in the hangar and there was Daddy!

"Daddy!" Luke shouted out again as he ran with all his might across the hangar.

Daddy stood in the middle of a group of stormtroopers and royal guards. There were a few officers, but Luke ignored them all. Because Daddy was here! He was here! He was home! He had been gone for so long! So, so, so long! And Luke missed him so much!

Daddy stopped talking to an officer and looked at Luke with a smile growing on his face. Luke ran with his arms out wide. Daddy walked forward also spreading his arms and then lowered himself down to one knee. Luke jumped the last few feet and hurled himself into Daddy's arms. Luke hugged his daddy, who hugged him back just as tightly.

"Daddy," Luke said. "I missed you!"

"I missed you, too," Daddy said softly.

"I missed you more!" Luke said.

Daddy laughed. "Did you now?"

But Daddy's laugh was too short. His smile was still there, but there was a bad look in his eyes.

"Daddy?" Luke asked. He cuddled against him, and Daddy gave him a kiss on the top of the head.

"Your majesty," someone said. "I must insist you make your way to the medical-"

Daddy's hand snapped up and the man stopped talking.

"Luke. You go back home. I'll be there soon."

Luke whined. He didn't want to go back without Daddy. But Daddy gave Luke another kiss and stood up, but it wasn't right. Daddy's face flinched and his movements were odd and funky. Something wasn't _right_.

Nanny was soon there taking Luke's hand and guiding him out of the hangar, but Luke twisted and turned and saw his Daddy leaving from another door. He wasn't walking right. Daddy was hurt, and Luke didn't like that.

* * *

The door slid open and Luke walked in. His eyes were wide and brows were creased. In his hands, he tightly held a flimsi piece of paper. A tightness inside Vader's heart eased at seeing his precious little son.

"Daddy?" Luke said as scurried across the medical room over to the bed. He didn't wait for permission before he was climbing up. Soon, Luke was curled up against his father's side with those big blue eyes looking right up at him. "Daddy are you ok? Are you sick?"

"I'm not sick, little one," Vader said softly. They were alone. The guards and staff were wise enough to let them have their privacy. "Just wounded."

"Wounded?"

"Sometimes that happens in battle."

Luke frowned and buried his head into Vader's neck. Soft downy hair brushed against the side of Vader's face. He kissed the top of Luke's hair.

"What's this?" Vader asked as he gently pulled on the paper still clutched in Luke's hand.

"I made you a picture," Luke said. He let the paper go and Vader held it up. "That's me and you."

Scribbled in bright crayons were two figures. One tall. One small. One with wearing all black and a cape. One wearing blue. Both with blue eyes. Both with large smiles. Both holding hands with little hearts and stars all around them.

"Thank you," Vader said smiling. He kissed Luke on the cheek. "I love it. I'll keep it right here."

"Daddy, when will you get to come home?"

"Tomorrow. After I take some time in a bacta tank. Then we can color together."

Luke snuggled in close again to his father. "Tomorrow? You promise?"

"Of course," Vader said as he gently wrapped his arm around his son and hugged him tight.


	5. Day 5: Sparkle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Agreeing to help Vader kill the Emperor, Luke allows his father to help with his training.

Luke followed the large dark form on his father. Despite having to bend over to avoid hitting his helmet against the cave walls of the ceiling, Vader moved gracefully on.

"How can you move so well in here?" Luke asked as he waved his glowrod in front of him.

"The lenses in my mask have different settings," Vader replied. His voice was loud in the small thin tunnel.

"Ah. I just thought it was a Force thing," Luke admitted with a shrug.

He sighed to himself. He wasn't sure what he was doing here. Va- his father had insisted they come here as it was the next step in Luke's training.

" _I won't be trained in the Dark Side_ ," Luke had said, holding his head up high and glared at Darth Vader.

There was a long pause from Vader before he spoke. " _This has nothing to do with the Light or Dark Side. This is the next step for any Force wielder. If you were a Jedi, you have completed this step when you were still a youngling._ "

Luke had eventually relented, and now they were here on a barren rock at the edge of the galaxy. Luke had been lured here by Vader's promise to teach him more about the Force, but not the Dark Side. He would not learn that. But in return, when Luke was strong enough, he would help Vader kill the Emperor.

He didn't dwell too much on what would happen after that. He knew his father wanted to take the throne with Luke as his side. ' _Rule the galaxy as father and son._ ' But Luke wasn't interested in that. He was faithful to the Alliance. What would Vader and the Alliance do after the Emperor was dead? Would the war continue with a new Emperor?

Luke shook his head to clear his thoughts. He had to take things one step at a time. First, learn the ways of the Force. Then kill the Emperor. Then deal with his father and the fate of the galaxy.

The tunnel had widened out. The ceiling now stretched far above them to where the light of Luke's glowrod couldn't reach.

"Turn the rod off," Vader said. His voice echoed. This place was much larger than Luke had assumed it was.

"But then I won't be able to see."

"Turn it off."

Luke mumbled but did as requested. His eyes strained against the pitch black as soon as the light disappeared. If it wasn't for the constant sound of Vader's respirator, he would have no idea where Vader was.

Wait. No.

He could just make out Vader's silhouette and just beyond the outline of the helmet was a faint twinkle of stars . . . But they were still in the cave . . . The twinkling grew brighter and soon the entire cavern was lit up by sparkling glowing crystals.

Luke gasped as he stared in wide-eyed wonder. "I can . . . I can feel them . . ."

"Kyber crystals," Vader said. His voice seemed softer and more natural. Not as harsh or mechanical. "They are the heart of a lightsaber. Jedi younglings would take pilgrimages to a cave such as this to find the crystal they resonate with."

"Resonate with? I already have a lightsaber."

Luke pulled out the saber he built back on Tatooine and he looked down at it. A large black-gloved hand came to a rest on top of his hand and another cupped it from below. Vader's hands tenderly surrounded Luke's own.

"This is not _your_ kyber crystal. A kyber crystal should pick you. That is why we are here."

Luke looked all around. "How do we even know if my kyber crystal is in this cave?"

"What do you feel?"

Luke closed his eyes and took a deep breath. At first, the only thing he noticed was the irritating sound of his father's breathing. He took a deeper breath and allowed himself to connect with the Force. He relaxed into the velvet folds and it hummed with music. Not that it was loud, but he could sense the crystals. They were like tiny bells gently chiming all around him.

He even noticed the gentle chime coming from his own lightsaber still sitting in his hands. There was also a chime that was slightly off as if it was out of tune or damaged. Vader. It was the crystal in Vader's saber. Why did it sound so wrong?

Suddenly there was a loud chime, far louder than any of the others. There in the back of the cave, one of the crystals was sparkling brighter and ringing louder than all the others. Vader's hands slipped away and he stepped to the side as Luke passed him by. He walked slowly through the cavern, stepping around rocks and stalagmites without even looking at them. His eyes were on the crystal.

He came to a stop right in front of an outcropping of rock and crystal. On one craggy tip was a small glowing crystal. It came free with almost no effort when he pulled it out. He placed the crystal in his palm and soon the glowing and the chiming faded away leaving him with a small clear crystal.

He understood now what his father had meant. This was his kyber crystal. The one he resonated with.

He turned around with a large smile on his face and despite the mask, he knew his father was smiling as well.


	6. Day 6: Nightmares Come Alive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If Luke is a ghost that seems to be tethered to Darth Vader, then he is going to haunt the Sith Lord.

Darth Vader ripped his red lightsaber out of the chest of a human dressed in tattered camo and plastoid armor. They were part of a ragtag group of dissenters against the Empire and had decided to rebel. Perhaps they could even get the Alliance's help, but the Alliance was unable to provide support before Vader arrived with his troops.

It was a slaughter.

The rebels were falling everywhere. Many from blaster fire, while a few met Darth Vader. He marched through the battlefield, now muddy and trampled, without stopping. His lightsaber hummed and hissed as it slid through bodies or bounced off bolts. With his free hand, he pulled and pushed rebels with the Force. Once he used the Force to detonate a bag of bombs one rebel was carrying. And throughout all of that, his stride never faltered.

The only thing Luke could do was watch. He couldn't help. He couldn't even offer calming words to the dying. Problem was, he was dead. He didn't remember how it happened. His current theory was he crashed his X-Wing. But he was blue, transparent, could go through walls, and no one could see him . . . well no one beside Vader. And somehow he was bound to Vader as if by some invisible chain. If Vader moved than Luke's ghostly body was forced to follow. If there was something blocking his path, his body would just slide right through.

It had been the very first day that Vader revealed he could see Luke, who had followed him into his strange pod-like hyperbaric chamber. He watched as an arm came down and removed the helmet. He was surprised to see that Vader, the feared Darth Vader, looked . . . so weak and pathetic under that mask. He was a pale white man with horrible scars.

"Leave," Vader said. His voice wheezy and weak, no longer the threatening bass that came out of his vocoder.

Vader's sickly yellow eyes seemed to be looking directly at Luke.

"Like you can see me," Luke grumbled to himself. No one else had seen him despite yelling and shouting and waving his arms. He had tried to push several officers and troopers, but his body only went right through them.

"I can."

Luke jumped. "What? You can see me?"

"Yes. Now leave."

Luke just stared with his mouth open for a moment before he straightened up and squared his shoulders. "No."

Vader clenched his crooked teeth and growled, though nowhere near as menacing as it would have been had he still be wearing the mask.

"Are you trying to do something?" Luke asked. "With the Force? Trying to get rid of me?"

Vader was silent.

"I was going to be a Jedi," Luke said proudly. No point in hiding it now.

"And the fate that came across you is the one that all Jedi have met."

Luke narrowed his eyes and glared.

"Now, leave," Vader said.

"Why? Are you in here to get some peace and quiet?" Slowly, a devilish smile spread on Luke's face. If he was a ghost and was bound to Vader . . . well he might as well make the most of it . . .

Vader lasted twenty minutes of Luke constantly talking. He talked about Vader's bald head and his stupid suit. He talked about how bad the Empire was. Vader closed his eyes and attempted to tune Luke out, but eventually the mask and the helmet were put back on and Vader marched out of the pod.

He tried to escape Luke by going into his fighter and flying amongst the stars, but Luke was there.

"You can't escape me," Luke said hovering next to Vader's arm. "Trust me. I've tried to escape you. We're stuck together."

Vader's helmet slowly turned to fully face Luke. He was silent for a long time before he looked back out the cockpit and brought the fighter back to the hangar.

Perhaps it had been a mistake telling Vader that Luke could not escape him because Vader made sure to go out of his way to make Luke's days miserable. Every prisoner brought on to the ship, Vader would personally interrogate and torture. It would go for hours. Possibly days.

"No," Vader said to the stormtroopers and the officer in the detention cell. "Heal him. Summon me when he is lucid again and we will begin again."

He turned and left the room.

"You're doing this on purpose," Luke hissed as he jogged along next to the Sith. "You're doing this because I can see it."

"Then leave," Vader said.

"I can't."

"Then be silent."

"So you can get some peace? Like in all hells am I going to let you do that!"

Vader paused in the middle of the hallway. "Then whatever scum I can get my hands on I'll use their screams to drown your incessant voice out." He pointed a gloved hand right at Luke's chest. "I will make this your hell. Your nightmare."

Then he turned and stormed away. Luke didn't want to follow him. He wanted to stand there and glower at him, but the invisible force pulled him down the hall after him.

Vader didn't lie; he lived up to his word. He made sure to induce pain and agony on any and all that he could, especially Rebels. Though that wasn't as bad when it was innocent people, who had been caught up in this war. Those were the times Luke tried to get away. Tried to go through the walls and cover his ears to stop hearing the pleading and calls for loved ones they would never see again.

Luke soon lost track of days, especially since he didn't sleep or eat. Everything started to blur together. He was tempted, oh so tempted, to stop with his attempts to annoy Vader. There were a few minutes when his exhaustion finally won over, and he sat curled up in a corner while Vader did some boring task like paperwork. But then he remembered all the cooling corpses, scattered starships, and at least one lost planet Vader was personally responsible for, and Luke's anger returned and he continued his nonstop noise.

Sometimes he would sing. Sometimes he would ramble aimlessly. Sometimes he would describe every move Vader made.

"Oh and now he's picking up the stylus. What will he do with it? Ah, sign something. And now he puts it back down."

Luke wasn't surprised when Vader slammed down his datapad and rode a turbolift down to the detention center.

"And what will it be today, oh great Lord Vader?" Luke asked as he trailed behind him. He was a little disappointed that as a ghost he still had to walk. Or if there was a trick to floating, he had yet to learn it.

Vader didn't acknowledge the ghost as he continued down the hallway to the cell at the very end. The interrogation chamber. Luke took a sharp breath, a habit he had when he was alive. He didn't need to breathe. Not anymore. But he still held his breath and his shoulders were tensed as he followed Vader in.

The prisoner wearing an Alliance uniform was already strapped to the table, which was standing upright with an IT-O Interrogator droid floating beside it. An officer, usually the interrogator, and two troopers stood in the cell.

"Leave us," Vader barked.

The Imperials followed orders without question and soon the cell was empty save for the prisoner, the Sith, and the ghost.

Vader walked over to the prisoner and ripped his rank insignia off. He gave it a quick look before he threw it to the ground.

"Now, lieutenant commander, you will tell me what I want to know."

To the prisoner's credit, he glared and spat at Vader.

"Rot in all nine hells, Vader!"

The prisoner's head jerked back as Vader's hand snapped up and curled into a fist.

"What do you know of the pilot who shot down the Death Star?" Vader asked.

A chill ran through Luke. How many interrogations had Luke witnessed? This was the first time Vader had asked that, but this was the first Rebel prisoner of rank. The others were just toys Vader played with to annoy Luke. This one was different.

"Noth- nothing. I know noth-" The words were cut short by a scream.

"What do you know of the pilot who shot down the Death Star? What is their name? Their rank? Where are they currently located?"

The prisoner only took in sharp breaths and glared at Vader. The screaming started again soon after that and went on for a very long time until finally the prisoner shouted out a name.

"Sky- sky- walker! _SKYWALKER_!"

Vader's arm dropped and he went still. Long seconds passed with only the sound of breathing coming from the two living beings.

"Sky . . . _walker_?" Vader asked. "His name is _Skywalker_? Where is he? _Where_ is this pilot?" He took a large step forward and grabbed the prisoner by the collar.

"He's . . . he's . . ." the prisoner mumbled.

"Tell me and you will live!"

"He's right here," Luke said bitterly.

Vader slowly turned around and looked at the ghost.

"I'm Luke Skywalker. The pilot that shot down the Death Star. I'm already dead."

Vader let go of the prisoner and turned towards Luke.

"You're . . . Luke Skywalker?"

"Son of Anakin Skywalker," Luke said. "Remember him? You murdered him."

". . . No," Vader grumbled.

"Skywalker . . . he's . . ." the prisoner continued. "He's . . . in . . . a- a . . . coma . . ."

Both Luke and Vader's were instantly on the prisoner.

" _What_?" Luke said breathlessly. "I'm not dead?"

Vader slowly turned back around and looked at Luke. "If you are not dead, then I will find you."

Luke tensed up. How long had he been terrorizing Vader's every waking second? And now he realized he was alive but helpless in a coma. Vader would kill him the moment he could. But . . . Would it mean this would all be over? Would his spirit finally be free of this nightmare or would he just wake up in his body and be the poor prisoner on the table?

Vader took a step closer. "It's time for your dream to end, young one."


	7. Day 7: Skeleton

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vader has come to Tatooine and found something extremely precious.

Darth Vader stepped up to the crib. It was made of mismatched metal probably found in a junkyard, but it was sound and well built. To his surprise the baby was awake. It was wrapped up in a soft white swaddle blanket to keep it warm and snug in the cold of the desert night. It kicked its legs, wiggled, and cooed.

Vader thought his heart had melted when he first saw the baby, _his_ baby, but now it was truly liquid. How could this small precious thing be alive? He slowly lowered his hand, but stopped just above the baby. Both of his hands were now prosthetics and gloved. He wouldn't be able to feel his baby, at least not here, but perhaps back on his ship.

His hand came down and with one fingertip he brushed the baby's light blonde hair to the side. The baby wiggled, but didn't whine or cry out in fear. Gently, slowly, and a bit cautiously, Vader pulled at the swaddle. Two chubby little arms popped up. At once the small hands reached for Vader.

He was completely still as a small hand wrapped around his index finger.

His prosthetics barely registered the pressure, but he could see it through the red-tint of his lenses. The baby was holding his finger. His baby. His _son_.

They stayed like that for a long while. Vader didn't dare move. He didn't want this to end, but eventually, the baby let go. The little one continued to wiggle and coo. He would look elsewhere, but his eyes would always return back to Vader. Back to his father.

Behind his mask, Vader was smiling.

Very, very slowly, he slipped his hands under the baby. He paused and tensed up waiting for the crying to start, but there was still none. So he picked up the baby and gently cradled him in his arms. The baby cooed and waved his little arms a bit, but his big blue eyes, Vader knew they had to be blue, never left Vader. Vader's smile had never left his face either.

"Hello there," Vader said. He had turned the volume of his vocoder down. It wasn't the impressive deep bass it usually was; it was softer. "Hi, Luke."

Luke? That was the name they had called him. The kidnappers and thieves and that traitor. But . . . Luke . . . that was the name . . . she had picked out . . . the name _she_ had wanted for their little boy . . . It couldn't be a coincidence. She must have lived long enough to name him. She must have. (Or had she shared such an intimate thought with . . . _him_? Had she truly betrayed her devoted husband for _him_?)

For a moment Vader's temper flared. He wouldn't have it. He would not have his son have such a name.

The baby whined. His small little face scrunched up.

"It is ok, baby," Vader said, attempting to soothe the baby. "It is ok. I am here. D-"

He paused. What did _he_ want to be called? What should his son know him as? Dad? Father? Dada? But he already knew.

"Daddy is here," he finished. "Daddy is here, Luke."

Yes, Luke. Luke was this baby's name. It was the name she had wanted.

Luke wiggled and yawned. He blinked a few times then yawned again. He was nodding off to sleep. Vader shifted the baby into the crook on his left arm, so his right hand could tuck the small arms back into the blanket. Or at least that's what he tried to do. Luckily, baby Luke didn't pull them out as instead his eyes drooped shut as he fell asleep.

Vader stood still for long minutes as he marveled at his son. He could not get over how he was holding his child, the child he thought lost and dead. Luke was alive! And together with his father- no wait. His daddy. Yes, his daddy. Luke was together with his daddy.

His daddy who would hold and protect him. Who would make sure he was raised as the little prince he was, not as some poor desert boy. No, Luke would not have the same childhood as the Skywalker who came before him.

Vader longed to give a gentle kiss on his son's forehead. Wished to smell the baby smell. But for now, he would have to settle for his little baby asleep in his arms, a beautiful and wonderful miracle in itself. He walked slowly out of the bedroom and into the courtyard of the homestead. He carefully walked up the steps mindful not to jostle the sleeping bundle.

The baby seemed to flinch a little when Vader stepped outside. Was it too cold? Was there wind? He should hurry to his shuttle, but not too fast. He didn't want to wake the baby.

He took care to step over the two charred skeletons who laid on the desert sands clawing their way towards the entrance. As if in their last moments they were still trying to get inside to the precious treasure hidden within. At the very least, they did get a small nod of approval from Vader for their loyalty to his son, and if they were going to die, at least they did so honorably trying to protect the baby. Perhaps he should order some troops to bury them next to the other family graves . . .

He paused as he looked over at the headstones. At his mother's final resting place. What was with this wretched place? It had claimed and stolen his mother, and it was where his stolen son had been brought. Vader looked down. He would make sure his little Luke would never set foot here again. This planet would be nothing more than a random name on a list of poor pathetic planets. Nothing more than a passing thought.

He continued on to the shuttle, but there was a slight hitch in his step as he looked at the third corpse. The wind had blown the large brown robe over the body and there was very little to see. That person did not deserve any more of Vader's attention. He would order the troopers to leave that corpse alone. Let the scavengers feast on his flesh, the sun bleach his bones, and the sand claim it.

Vader looked back down at the baby. A perfect, precious wonderful child. No more would he think of skeletons in the sand. His attention would now be completely on his son.


	8. Day 8: Unwavering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Modern Day AU) Luke and Leia Skywalker after graduating high school have moved out on their own to get away from their overprotective and controlling father, who hasn't quite been the same since their mother died when they were children. However, Luke asks his roommate and friend Han to drive him to his father's house. Luke has something important to talk to his father about. (Note on rating: A few curse words.)

Luke sat slouched over in the passenger seat. He had been quiet the entire trip out of the city and into the country. Not that Han could blame the kid with the news he was carrying to his estranged father. Luke and Leia didn't speak much of their father, and when they did it was a mix. At times they were laughing, holding back tears, as they shared a joyful family memory, but those moments were rare. Mostly when their father came up, it was with bitter words and frustrations.

From what Han had gathered, Mr. Skywalker did not support his children's decision to move to the city and strike it out on their own. Leia was in college aiming to eventually transfer into law school while working a part-time job on the side. Luke had decided to take a gap year and was working at a mechanic's. They shared an apartment with Han in the city and paid their bills on time. Han didn't get what Mr. Skywalker's problem was, but he was proud of the twins.

But now Luke wanted to speak for his father and had asked Han for a ride upstate. Han worked as an Uber and Lyft driver as a front for some of his shadier dealings and had offered the ride for free. Usually, Luke would protest and pay him despite how tight he was on money, but this time he just silently nodded his head.

Han checked the GPS app running on his phone; they were almost there. He looked out the windows to see another large stately home tucked between manicured lawns and behind fences. The Naboo Lake Country was known as a place where the rich came to escape New York City and get some space and quiet. He had suspected that Luke and Leia came from money, but he hadn't imagined they came from this type of money.

"Turn left and arrive at your destination," the GPS said.

He turned onto a drive that led to a wrought-iron fence. It was huge and made out of iron flowers and twisting vines with stars poking through. At the very top arching across the entire gate was the phases of the moon with the full moon dead center.

He stopped right in front of the gate and rolled down his window. Tall white stone posts held up the gate, and each contained a key entry and a small screen. He reached over and pressed the call button. Almost immediately, the video turned on. The face of an old man showed up. Was _this_ the infamous Mr. Skywalker?

Luke leaned over the center console, so his face could be seen. "Hey Rex, it's me," Luke said with a weak wave.

The old man's face lit up. "Luke! Welcome home! Come on in!"

Luke nodded and slid back over to his seat as the gate silently slid open. Han slowly drove his car past the gate but noticed out of the corner of his eye how Luke's face had gone pale. The drive curved around a small grove of trees on a little hill before it opened up a beautiful view of Lake Naboo and an absolutely stunning mansion sitting next to it.

"Damn," Han said. "This is where you grew up?"

"Mostly," Luke said. "Though there was also the house in the city."

Not an apartment in the city. A house. Of course. If Luke's family could afford this place they should be able to afford a house in New York City too. They might even have a house in the Hamptons too.

"Just pull upfront," Luke said.

Han parked right in front of the large steps that led up to the main entrance of the house. Luke didn't move for several long quiet moments even after Han had turned the car off.

"You sure you want to do this?" Han asked. "Say the word and I will turn this car around."

"No," Luke said softly. He finally opened the door and stepped out.

Han debated waiting in the car. He'd rather be in here than dealing with the stuffy rich house but he was too curious. He followed quietly behind Luke as they entered the mansion.

It was just as lux inside as it was outside. A huge bouquet of fresh flowers that towered over Han stood on a small table in the entryway below a chandelier.

"Master Luke! Welcome home!"

An older man with white hair wearing a pale yellow suit walked over. Han couldn't help but smirk at the thought that there was a butler and that Luke was called Master Luke.

"Hi Threepio," Luke said. "Is my father in?"

"Up in his office."

Luke smoked and nodded. He looked back at Han. "Wait down here. Threepio can show you around or get you something to eat or drink."

Luke headed up the curling staircase to the second floor.

"Good luck," Han called out.

Luke paused, turned around and smiled at him, but the smile didn't reach his eyes.

* * *

Luke heard Threepio ask Han how he could be of service, and Han groaned. The voices faded away as he walked down the hall. He passed his and Leia's old bedrooms. He could see the door to his father's office was open, and he stopped. His heart was pounding in his tight chest, a lump was forming in his throat, and he was breaking out in a cold sweat. He tried to take a calming breath, but it came out shaky.

Realizing he was never going to be ready, he walked forward and entered the office. It had been over a year since he had last been here and it hadn't changed. The same books sat in the same spots. The same family photos still hung on the wall. Many showed Luke and Leia when they were young when the Skywalkers were still a happy family when their mom was still alive.

Anakin Skywalker sat at his desk looking at his dual screen monitor and typing furiously away. He glanced up briefly, but then looked back up. Then his head snapped back up. His eyes widened and his face went slack.

"Luke?" he said in a soft voice.

He didn't wait for a second longer. He was up, around the large desk, and standing in front of Luke in mere seconds. Anakin Skywalker hadn't changed much. He still stood tall, no longer wore his hair long like in the photos of the past as it was now kept trimmed and short.

"Luke," he said again. His brows crumpled. "You . . . you're . . ."

Luke stepped forward and wrapped his arms around his father, who did the same. Anakin held his son tight.

"I missed you," he whispered. "I've been so worried about you and your sister."

Luke didn't say a word. He didn't want to bring up the old arguments. He didn't want or need to rehash things. That wasn't why he was here. He was the one to pull away and Anakin's hands rested on Luke's shoulders.

"Can we talk?" Luke said.

Anakin nodded, gave Luke's shoulders a squeeze before he returned to his seat behind the desk. Luke fought back a sigh; Anakin hadn't sat in the other chair in front of the desk as Luke did. He always wanted to be in the better seat. A subtle reminder of his authority and position.

"Uh . . . dad," Luke said, looking down at his lap. "I uh . . . something has happened and . . . um . . . I think I might need your help."

He finally dared to look up. Gone was the soft caring expression on Anakin's face. His eyes had narrowed and his jaw was tight.

"Why am I not surprised?" Anakin said harshly, causing a shiver to run down Luke's spine. Luke opened his mouth to correct his father's assumptions, but he discovered he had lost his voice in the large lump in his throat. "I knew this would happen," Anakin continued. "I tried to warn you. Well, what is it? Finally run out of money have you? Here to beg for some? I will not help you live a pathetic life in some rundown apartment living with some criminal while you waste your talents working in some two-bit garage. You can come home and come to work for me or attend a _good_ university, unlike that community school your sister is at."

Anakin huffed and rolled his eyes. The lump in Luke's throat was growing bigger. He was completely incapable of words, and his cheeks were growing hot.

"I never wanted this for you," Anakin said. "I do not know why you and sister insisted on being 'on your own.' How has it been? Has it really been the life of freedom you longed for? Eating ramen noodles and cold hotdogs? You two had everything if you followed my advice!"

It was happening again. The same words were coming out that had been said a year ago when Luke and Leia left the summer after graduating from their fancy private high school. Their father didn't understand. They wanted to live _their_ lives, not the life their father had planned out for them. They wanted to explore and make mistakes. They wanted to figure out who they really were when faced with real challenges.

But Anakin Skywalker was deeply against that. Why did his children want such a thing? He had had that life as a child. A life of poverty. It would not provide Luke and Leia with what they were seeking. They needed to stay with their father and take his advice. It was always his way, especially after their mother died. Anakin grew so overprotective of his children. So . . . controlling . . .

What the Skywalker twins really wanted was to be free from their father. Not that they didn't love him, they deeply loved him, but they couldn't spend their whole lives blindly following what Anakin Skywalker said. The problem was, Anakin didn't see anything wrong with that. He was so unwavering his faith that his way was the right way.

Tears were threatening to spill out at any moment, and Luke would not cry here. Not in front of his father. He stood up.

"Sorry," he muttered. "I shouldn't have come."

Then he turned and fled from the room. His father called his name and demanded he come back, but Luke ran down the stairs. He ran across the foyer, out the door, and down the steps to Han's car. He ripped open the door and threw himself into the passenger seat. Only after the door had closed did he allow the tears to fall.

* * *

Han heard the running down the stairs and the door slamming.

"Luke?" he called out as he jogged through the fancy house and back outside. He saw Luke hunched over in his. "Luke!" He took the stairs two at a time and opened the door. Luke had his head in his hands sobbing. "Luke? What happened? You weren't up there long enough. Did you tell him?"

Luke's shoulders shook. He looked up at Han. His face was puffy and red as tears rolled down his cheeks.

"N- no- no," Luke said between sobs. "He-he wouldn't-n't listen. He has-hasn't changed at- at all."

"So you didn't tell him?" Luke shook his head. "Anything?" Another shake. "And you're still out here crying? Well, fuck that."

Han turned around and marched back up the stairs. He pushed the door still open and glared up the stairs to the second floor. That asshole was up there somewhere as that was where Luke had gone earlier.

Han walked up the steps and shouted, "Hey! Asshole! I want a word with you!"

"Oh my!" Han heard the voice of the annoying butler from a first-floor hallway.

He had made it up to the top of the steps when he saw a man walking down the hallway directly towards him. This must be Luke's father. Han saw the resemblance not only to Luke but also to Leia. He was middle age and stern looking with a scar on the right side of his face. Where had he got that from? A water skiing accident on the lake?

"Han Solo," Mr. Skywalker said. "I do not recall inviting you to my house, much less allowing you in."

"Your _son_ invited me in," Han said as he took the last step to stand even with the man.

"My son does not live here. I recommend you leave. _Now_."

Han clenched his jaw. What was this guy's deal? But he noticed the way Mr. Skywalker shifted his stance. Was he getting ready to throw a punch? Han would tumble down the stairs if he got a good hit in, and Han could tell this guy could punch. He noted the muscles under the white button-up shirt. There was something . . . rugged about this guy. Feral. He wasn't completely matching the soft spoiled rich guy he had imagined him to be.

"I don't care," Han said. He pointed his finger at Anakin. "I don't care about you, but I do care about Luke who is out in my car crying his heart out because his dad is fucking asshole who won't even listen to him."

"My business between my son and me is private. Leave now, Mr. Solo. It would be a real shame for Officer Fett to get a call that you're breaking your parole."

"Have you always been a dick?" Han asked. "Or has that been a recent development? I have no idea how Luke and Leia are your kids."

A chill ran down Han's spine as Mr. Skywalker's blue eyes narrowed at him.

Han continued, "I'm leaving. I just wanted you to know why your son came out all the way out here. He came out here to talk to his _dad_ to tell him he's sick. Some kind-"

Han was cut off.

" _Sick_? What do you mean _sick_?"

But before Han could say anything, Mr. Skywalker had brushed past him, down the stairs, past the waiting butler, and out of the doors.

* * *

Luke's head was back in his hands and he was still crying but not as hard as earlier. He didn't look up as he heard the door open again. He just wanted to go home, crawl into bed, and disappear. He dreaded the long awkward car home. He shouldn't have come here. Why did he think things would be different? That his dad would get off his high horse? Of course, he hadn't wavered at all.

"Luke?"

Luke looked up and blinked trying to chase away his tears and clear his vision. It wasn't Han standing there, but his dad. A strong sob ran through him shaking his whole body that he could feel in his bones. He didn't want his dad to see him like this.

"Luke."

The words were soft. Way too soft. Anakin reached out with one hand and gently cupped his son's face.

"You're sick? What does that mean? Please . . . please don't tell me it's . . ."

"The same thing mom had?" Luke muttered. He squeezed his eyes shut and nodded his head unable to say it out loud.

He heard his father take in a sharp breath and felt the small flinch of his hand.

"Da- dad," Luke sobbed opening his eyes back up. "I . . ." But the words fell out of his mouth as he started to cry harder.

He couldn't say it. He couldn't admit he was scared. He remembered clearly what the same disease had done to his mother. How it had eaten her away. Eaten away his father, too, until he had become a completely different person after she had died. After the disease had won.

"I don't want to die," Luke said. His words oddly clear and even despite the sobs shaking his body.

"No," Anakin said. "No. You will not. You are not going to die, Luke. I won't let it happen."

Luke wanted to argue. How could his dad stop it? He hadn't stopped it before.

"Come here," Anakin whispered as he pulled his son out of the car and wrapped his arms tight around him. He kissed Luke's cheek. "It will be alright. I promise."

Luke didn't have the strength to argue. Instead, he let himself sag against his father, and Anakin held him up. He hugged Luke tighter, and for the moment, Luke wanted to believe that his dad could save him. That everything would be alright. This time, surely this time, they would beat it.

* * *

Anakin Skywalker opened the door very slowly and peered in. Luke was curled up fast asleep in his bed. In his room. In the house that Padme's great grandfather had built. The house where Luke belonged with his father. Anakin closed the door. He looked at the closed door directly across from him; it was Leia's room. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

Leia still had his number blocked, and he hadn't asked whether Luke had contacted his sister about his current location. Hopefully, that smuggler scum would tell Leia once he returned to the city. Then soon . . . Soon both of his children would be _home_ again. This house could be a home again.

He turned and walked down the hallway to his office. It sat in the middle of the bedrooms. He had purposely placed it here when Padme had gotten sick. He never wanted to be far from her or the children. He was going to be there for all of them. Yet despite everything that he did, all the favors he had called in and the dirty deals he had made, nothing had saved his beloved.

He sat down at his desk and looked at the two picture frames he kept there. One was of Padme and Anakin on their wedding day. It was the only photo that was taken from when the two had eloped. They were both so young and happy, and his heart hurt every time he looked at it. The other picture was of the four of them. The twins were cute, adorable six-year-olds. Everyone had huge grins. The bags under the eyes wouldn't appear for another year. This was a time when they were all still happy and healthy and together.

How Anakin yearned for that now.

He hated that his family had been torn apart. He hated spending time alone in this house. Sure there were the staff like Threepio and Rex . . . but it wasn't the same. He missed Luke and Leia. He often found himself opening their doors at night to check up on empty beds. Where had he gone wrong? He had given them the best, and yet they both wanted to throw it away.

But . . . with what had happened today . . . would things change? Would Luke and Leia come back home? Would they rally together? Be a family together again?

He hoped so.

Anakin pulled out his cell phone and made a call.

"Tarkin," a voice said on the other end.

"It's Vader," Anakin said.

"I take it you heard the news of the diagnosis?"

"Yes. Luke came home to tell me."

"Isn't that what you wanted?"

"Yes," Anakin said. "Thank Doctor Aphra for me. Those pills worked well to give him the symptoms, and she did well on the false test results. I will contact you when your services are needed. I'll wire the money in the morning."

"Good night, Vader."

Anakin didn't even bother with saying goodbye as he ended the call and leaned back in his chair with a smile on his face as he looked back at the photo of his family. His happy family all together like it would soon be again.


	9. Day 9: Ghost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As long as Luke can remember, he's always seen the tall dark shadowy ghost. As he ages, the ghost becomes more defined and starts to communicate with him.

The ghost had always been there for as long as Luke could remember. Apparently, as a baby, he used to stare where no one was and just start crying. And as he grew and recognized the ghost, it still scared him. He would run and hide under his covers at night as an odd cold would settle over him. He had stolen more covers in hope of keeping the chill away, but it was still there. It felt like a hand resting on his head, shoulder, or against his back.

As he grew older he learned the hard way to ignore the ghost and not to mention it. Aunt Beru and Uncle Owen always grew concerned when he mentioned it, but told him it was nothing more than a bad dream. If that was true, why was the ghost always there? When he had mentioned it to other kids, they all made fun of him. So he stopped talking about it, but that didn't make the ghost go away.

At first, the ghost was nothing more than a tall large dark shadow, but as Luke grew the shadow became more defined. First came the face with large black eyes and a triangular mouth. Then the cape and arms. It almost looked like a droid, but why would a ghost look like a droid?

Sometimes the ghost hovered close to him. Usually when he was working in the garage putting together his skyhopper, fixing vaporators, or working on droids. Maybe the ghost was a droid as it seemed quite interested in fixing things. It would even point at tools or a part Luke was looking for.

Other times the ghost would linger in a corner, silently watching. It especially kept its distance when Luke's aunt or uncle was around. Only at night, when Luke pretended to sleep did the ghost get close enough to touch him and most nights it did. However, what used to cause Luke to shiver and cower under the blankets, he eventually found the touch soothing.

Despite all of this, Luke still knew the ghost was dangerous. Not to him, but to others. The first time the ghost acted was when Luke was still quite little. He was with his aunt while she shopped at the market in Anchorhead. He hadn't been looking where he was going and bumped into the leg of a large scary man. The man bent over and growled at him saying Luke would make a nice meal. Luke whelped and ran back to his aunt and clutched her skirt, but the ghost . . .

The ghost raised an arm and suddenly the scary man started to choke. People started to notice as he fell to his knees. Someone rushed over and started pounding on his back, but it didn't help. Soon the man fell to the sand and didn't move again. Aunt Beru grabbed Luke's hand and they immediately returned to their speeder and left.

"Did that man die?" Luke asked quietly.

"Of course not," Aunt Beru lied.

But Luke knew; he knew the ghost had killed that man.

The next incident was when Luke was playing with his friends. They were racing around some rocks on the outskirts of town, but one of the boys pushed Luke down and laughed. Suddenly, the boy flew and his body hit a large rock. He was still and quiet and Luke ran for help.

He learned then that the ghost would hurt people who hurt or threatened him, so he tried to stay out of trouble.

By the time he was fifteen, the ghost had a very clear appearance of a humanoid man dressed in all black with a black mask and helmet.

"Are you a droid?" Luke asked one day bored while he did his chores around the farm.

The ghost shook its head. Luke paused.

"Wait . . . you can . . . understand me?"

A nod. Yes.

"Are you a ghost?"

He had to ask. He had to know.

A nod. Yes. Yes, it was a ghost.

"Oh. Then . . . then why me? Why not go haunt someone else?"

The ghost raised its hand and pointed at Luke. Actually, it pointed at his heart. Then it pointed at its own heart.

"What does that mean?" Luke grumbled.

The ghost only walked over and placed a hand on his head, but the only thing Luke felt was coldness where the ghost touched.

After that, the ghost seemed to be a bit more involved. Seemed to linger closer and more often. It appeared to be trying to help Luke whether with chores or his hobbies or with homework. And for some unexplained reason, he started talking to it. Only when he was sure he was alone where no one could hear him.

"I want to go up there one day," Luke said as he sat outside the homestead looking up at the stars. The ghost sat next to him silent and cold as always. "See the stars. All of them."

He looked over at the ghost who was watching him. The ghost slowly nodded his head; Luke smiled.

"You agree? Want to come with me? Well, I guess you don't have a choice in the matter."

When Luke was seventeen, his best friend Biggs left to join the Imperial Navy.

"Did you move this datapad here?" Luke asked the ghost.

Sometimes, though rare, the ghost was able to move things. A datapad sat on Luke's bed and he was sure he hadn't placed it there. Not where his aunt or uncle could see it. The ghost nodded.

"Why?" Luke huffed picking up the datapad and turning it on. The Imperial Cog symbol flashed on the screen and soon the words 'Imperial Navy Academy Application" popped up. "Don't tell me you want me to apply."

Another nod.

Luke threw the datapad back down on the bed. "No way my uncle will ever allow that," he muttered. "Plus . . . I don't know . . . I don't know if I should join the Empire's navy, but . . . how else am I ever going to get off this rock?" He threw himself down onto his bed. "Not like you can help."

" _Go_."

Luke sat up and twisted around so fast his spine cracked.

He looked around the room. It was empty save for him and the ghost.

"Was . . . was that _you_? Did you just speak?"

A nod.

"Did you tell me to go?"

Another nod.

"Easy for you to say."

The ghost walked over to the edge of the bed.

" _Luke. Go._ "

The voice was deep but also wispy and strained. It didn't seem like talking was easy for the ghost.

"Alright," Luke said. "I'll talk to my aunt and uncle."

Aunt Beru and Uncle Owen were completely against the idea of Luke joining the navy. They said he was needed on the farm at least for another season plus he was too young.

"I knew that was going to happen," Luke said as he made his rounds of the vaporators. The ghost silently trailed behind him.

He sat down against one of the vaporators allowing himself to rest in the scant shade before he had to walk to the next one. He took a long sip of water.

"Maybe they're right. I'm just some farmboy. I should just stay on the farm."

" _No_."

"No what?"

" _Luke. You. Are. More_."

A shy smile spread across his lips. "Thanks for the support, but it's not quite the same coming from a ghost."

" _I. Am. More._ "

Luke looked up at it. "What does that mean?"

" _I. Am. Father._ "

Despite the heat, a chill ran through him.

"What?" he asked breathlessly.

But the ghost only lowered its head. It pointed at Luke's heart and then back at his.

Luke jumped up to his feet. "Is that what you meant all that time ago? You're my father? You're really my father? All this time?"

A nod.

A million thoughts ran through him. He had always dreamed of his father coming back and taking him to the stars, but . . . he was here. He had always been here. He had been dead this entire time. He blinked back a few tears and turned away so the ghost, his father!, couldn't see.

That night Luke sat on his bed with the academy application in his hand. "So you think I should go?"

The ghost nodded.

" _Do. Not. Wait. Go_."

"And how am I supposed to do that? Runaway?"

The ghost nodded.

"Aunt Beru and Uncle Owen . . . I don't know if I can do that . . ."

" _Go. Luke._ "

It wasn't for another year that he finally got the courage to do it. He had hoped that eventually his uncle and aunt would give him not only permission but also their blessing, but they never did and his father's ghost kept insisting. If Luke was honest with himself . . . he wanted to go too. He wanted to get off this planet and see the stars. He not only wanted to be like his father but also make him proud.

So one day he told his family he would be spending the night at Fixer's garage doing work on his skyhopper and racing with his friends. Instead, he went to the Imperial Garrison and told the trooper at the desk he wanted to enlist. He handed the datapad application over.

"Luke Skywalker?" the trooper asked. His voice was dull and unimpressed.

Luke nodded with a smile on his face.

"Welcome to the Empire."

Luke sent a message to his family before he boarded a speeder for Mos Espa so he could take the next Imperial transport out. His father's ghost put a hand on Luke's shoulder.

" _I. Am. Proud. Luke_."

Luke smiled, but it quickly vanished. He was glad his father was proud but knew his aunt and uncle would be worried sick. But he had to do this. He had to follow his heart. He just couldn't be a farmer.

The academy was hard, but Luke was determined. Plus his father was there to help. Perhaps he paid attention better in class, but he knew a lot of the answers the instructors asked. With his father's help and Luke's skill as a pilot, he graduated at the top of his class.

"I got my first deployment," Luke said.

He had waited until his roommate left before he opened the message. He wanted to share this moment with his father, who loomed behind Luke's shoulder.

"Let's see . . . wait . . . the _Devastator_? That can't be right!" He looked up at his father. "This is a mistake. That's Lord Vader's ship. No way would they let a rookie fresh out of the academy join their ranks!"

" _Luke. No. Mistake._ "

"Father . . . I don't know if I can do this," he said as he sat down on the edge of his bunk.

" _You. Can._ "

Luke looked up at him.

" _Do. Not. Worry. I. Will. Be. There._ "

Luke took solace in that. At least his father would be there with him, but as they boarded the shuttle he noticed something was off with the ghost. He was no longer as clear.

"Father?" Luke whispered.

The ghost said nothing. By the time the shuttle landed in the hangar of the star destroyer, the ghost was nothing more than a black shadow. Luke wanted nothing more than to get his room assignment and lock the door. He needed to talk with his father. Why was this happening?

He barely paid attention to the officer who gave the newbies their orientation. He just kept glancing at his father who seemed to be fading and slowly losing his details.

Why? _Why_!

He had said he would be there with him. Luke couldn't lose him now. He had always been there. His whole life. He didn't know if he could do this without him.

"Skywalker. _Skywalker_?"

"Huh. Yes?"

"Your room assignment," the orientation officer said in an annoyed voice.

"Thank you, sir," Luke said. "Which deck should I report to?"

"You are requested at Lord Vader's office," the officer said.

Luke's face paled. "What? Why?" He didn't have time for this! He looked over and his father was nothing more than a dark undefined shadow.

"You are being assigned to the Black Squadron. Lord Vader is the commander."

He was being assigned to the Black Squadron? Lord Vader's _personal_ squad? There were tons of rumors about Lord Vader at the academy. That he had mystical powers. That he had eyes in the back of his head. That he was really a droid. But also he was a really good pilot and his squadron, the Black Squadron, was the best of the best. Sure, Luke had graduated at the top of his class, but he was still a rookie. People spent years working up towards the elite squads.

"You are to report right now, Skywalker," the officer said. "You do not want to keep your new commander waiting. Your bag will be taken to your room. Now go. Your escort is here."

Luke wanted to protest. He wanted to ask to go to the refresher. He just needed to talk to his father. Too many things were happening. He couldn't even whisper to his father's ghost with the escort. Luke was trembling as he walked down the hall, but his thoughts were far away from meeting the Supreme Commander of the Imperial Navy. His thoughts were completely on his father, who was now nothing more than a wisp of smoke.

What could he say to get away? But nothing came to mind and soon the trooper paused in front of a door. It slid open and the trooper gestured inside. Luke stepped inside and looked around for his father. He wasn't there. He wasn't there!

Tears started to burn in his eyes. What had happened? He had always been there! _Always_! He said he would be there!

"Luke Skywalker."

"Father!" Luke blurted out as he snapped his head up.

He blanked. Once. Twice.

A man stood in front of him . . . tall and wearing all black with a helmet and mask on with a long black cape on. He looked just like . . . the ghost . . . his father's ghost. But . . . he wasn't a ghost. This wasn't a ghost!

The figure stepped forward.

"So you know the truth?" the man said. His voice was deep and rumbling and real. It was far from the ghost's voice.

"The truth? Forgive me, sir. I spoke out of turn. I'm Luke Skywalker. I'm here to meet with Lord Vader."

The man said nothing for several long moments. Only the sound of his breathing through a respirator was heard.

"I am Lord Vader," he finally said. "Why did you call me father?"

This . . . _THIS_ was Lord Vader? And Luke had called him father? His cheeks turned bright red.

"I am so sorry, my lord. Please forgive me. I . . . I . . ."

What was he going to say? Sorry I mistook you for the ghost of my father?

"Come," Vader said as he turned around and walked over to his desk. He took a seat behind it and he waved Luke to the seat in front of it. Luke sat down, and as he did so his eyes scanned the room. No sign of the ghost. "Luke Skywalker from Tatooine? Correct?"

"Yes, sir."

"It says on application to the academy your father was Anakin Skywalker. Is that correct?"

The ghost had told him to write that.

"Ye- yes," Luke said. Where _was_ his father? He was always there. Always. Even when Luke hadn't wanted the ghost there. It was there.

"A sample of your blood was collected while you were at the academy and compared against your fathers," Vader continued. "It appears you are telling the truth."

What? Why did they take his blood? And how did they have his father's blood? He had been dead almost twenty years now! What was going on?

"We have much to talk about, young one," Vader said.

"We do?" Luke whispered.

"What do you know about your father?"

"My f- father, sir?"

"Yes."

"My father is dead, sir."

The room suddenly became cold.

"Your father is not dead," Vader growled.

Luke opened his mouth to protest. Yes, he was. His ghost had been by his side all of his life but moments ago! Since he came to this ship!

"I am your father," Vader said.

But- wait- that- how-

"That's not true!" Luke said. "That's impossible! You can't be my father! You're alive!"

"Search your feelings, Luke. You know this to be true."

It couldn't be true. It . . . Yes, Vader looked just like his father's ghost. But that didn't mean anything! It just couldn't be!

_Luke._

His father! He looked around the office. He couldn't see the ghost anywhere.

_It's. True._

"But _how_?" he asked softly and unintentionally aloud.

Vader stood up and walked around his desk. He placed a hand on Luke's shoulder. The gesture was so painfully familiar.

"Do not worry, my son," Vader said as he looked at Luke. "I am here."


	10. Day 10: Once Upon a Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Little Luke and Leia love spending time with their dada.

Darth Vader smiled at the sound of his children laughing and squealing in joy. They both sat in a small hover wagon that he pushed around a small obstacle course throughout the apartment. They loved going around sharp corners where Vader would tip the wagon and it felt like they were going to fall out. He would push them under a table saying it was a tunnel and catch them as they came out the other side. The Force bubbled around them in happiness and light, and Vader basked in it.

He finally came to a stop and the twins clambered out. They rushed over to him and hugged his legs. Two pairs of large eyes looked up at him with nothing but love. He didn't understand why they loved him. He didn't deserve these two perfect little angels. He who had done unbearable and unspeakable things each time he was away from them and would continue to do such things, and yet no matter what, they always ran up to him and hugged him.

"I love you, Dada!" Leia said.

"I love you too, Dada!" Luke repeated.

Vader leaned down and ruffled both of their heads. Luke jumped up and grabbed his father's gloved hand.

"Your turn, Dada!"

"Dada's turn!" Leia said, grabbing Vader's other hand.

They pulled him over to the wagon.

"Sit!" Luke said letting go of the hand so he could push his father in the wagon. Vader didn't budge.

Leia joined her brother in pushing their father.

"Young ones," Vader said as softly as his vocoder allowed. "I am too big and heavy to ride in the wagon."

The children paused only for a moment.

"But it's Dada's turn!"

"Dada's turn in wagon!"

"Luke. Leia. I cannot-"

"Sit!" Leia demanded as she leaned against her father with all her might.

Vader would have sighed if his respirator allowed for such a thing. He slowly lowered himself down onto the wagon. It slowly sank to the ground as the weight limit had been maxed out three times over with Vader sitting it in. But Luke and Leia were undeterred. They ran around to the back, put their hands on their father's back, and started to push.

The wagon did not move.

The twins pushed harder.

"As I said, I am too big. This wagon is not meant for big adults such as myself."

"No!" Luke grunted. "Dada turn!"

Oh, his sweet little babies. They knew nothing of the cruelties in this world. They enjoyed riding in the wagon and wanted to share that with their father. They lived in a world where they shared with each other and gave each other turns and that included their father. They simply did not understand beyond that.

Vader stood up and both twins started to whine.

"No, Dada! Sit!"

"Dada's turn! Sit! Sit!"

Vader bent down and scooped up both of his children. He needed to divert their attention away from the wagon. Luckily, they didn't protest and wrapped their legs and arms around him. His heart ached as he wished he could give them both dozens of kisses. He carried them into their nursery and sat down in the large brown leather chair that had been custom built to accommodate him. The twins cuddled close to him.

"I think it's storytime," Vader said.

The twins' frowns instantly disappeared as they smiled.

"Story!" Luke said.

"Story! Story!" Leia said.

Behind his mask, Vader smiled. How could he deny them such a thing?

He began, "Once upon a time . . ."


	11. Day 11: Radiance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The life of Anakin Skywalker was full of color, but as Darth Vader, all he sees is red.

Once his life was brilliant and full of color. There were the golden hues of the desert complimented by the blues of the sky in his childhood. Then there were the brown robes of the Jedi Order and the greys of Coruscant skyline. This was followed by an explosion of color as he finally was able to explore different planets. Bright purples and vibrant pinks. The soothing green and blue of Naboo was his favorite, which was followed by the garish oranges of Geonosis.

But the one color that haunted him, that he became all too familiar with, was red.

Red blood of the hundreds upon hundreds of slain clone troopers and later Jedi dead by his hands.

Red lava and fires of Mustafar that claimed his body and soul and burnt into a black husk.

Red lightsaber that he channeled his anger and bloodlust through.

Red lenses of his mask that clouded his vision in that hue forevermore.

His world went from a rainbow kaleidoscope to monochromatic in an instant. He didn't mourn the loss of color from his life. Red suited him just fine. Red lava. Red lightsaber. Red blood. Red flags of the Empire he now devoted his life to.

Even though in his hyperbaric chamber or in his soaks in a bacta he was without the lenses, he never noticed any colors. It was all the same. The red had bled his way into his very optic nerves it felt like.

Until . . .

There was _blue_.

A blue lightsaber.

Odd how he noticed this blade's color when he hadn't even registered the blade of his former master when he had struck him down. But this blade held by this boy was blue. Painfully blue. It hurt his eyes. He wanted it gone. Wanted this boy gone.

But the boy escaped with the blue lightsaber.

And Vader became obsessed with that color. Blue holographs. Crushed blue holocrons. Blue streaks of hyperspace. Blue ice walls. Blue eyes.

Brilliant blue eyes complemented by blond hair.

His heart ached as he started to remember, but the red had stained his mind. Even his memories were painted in that wretched color.

Until there was a harsh blinding white. It exploded behind his eyes. It was all he could see. Just a blinding white . . .

The mask came off and he could see it. He could see the color! The color of the fire, orange and red and yellow. The color of the hangar, greys and blacks. The colors of his son, black and yellow and blue- oh those blue eyes. They were like the desert sky. He could remember! He could remember the colors!

"I've got to save you," the boy said.

"You already have, Luke," he replied.

He said his last words and smiled at his son and the beautiful radiance of the world.


	12. Day 12: Clenched Fists

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lord Vader is angry at an Imperial officer for disobeying his orders regarding the capture of Skywalker.

Lord Vader stood in front of the viewport in the dark meeting room. All the furniture had been taken out so Captain Piett was forced to stand awkwardly as he waited. Only Lord Vader and his two death trooper guards seemed unbothered as the wait dragged on.

Finally, the door to the room slid open and two stormtroopers escorted an Imperial officer into the room. Their hold was tight on the officer's arms, and the office twisted and jerked trying to break free while his face was red and sweaty. The troopers pushed the officer to his knees in front of Vader, who did not flinch or move. His gaze was steady looking at the stars and his fleet. Captain Piett noted the gold highlights in Vader's dark blond hair the starlight seemed to highlight.

"What is the meaning of this?" the officer demanded. He tried to get up, but the troopers pushed him back down.

"Captain Piett," Vader said. Piett straightened up. "What were my orders pertaining to Skywalker?"

"He was to be captured alive, unhurt if possible, and you were to be notified immediately," Piett said.

"Would you say those were the same orders you heard, colonel?" Vader asked. Though his back was still to everyone, his voice was loud and clear.

"I . . . uh . . . "

"Do not blabber," Vader barked. "A simple yes or no will suffice."

"Yes, sir, Lord Vader, but-"

"There are no buts, colonel. My orders were clear. Skywalker was to be brought to me if he was captured, and yet you did not follow orders."

There was a slight nod of Vader's head and the troopers snapped their blasters up pointing them at the quivering colonel.

"No! Wait! Please, my lord! I can explain!"

Vader took in a sharp breath before he slowly turned around. His gold eyes instantly zeroed in on the man.

"Oh?" Vader asked. "Shall I drag you to my mother? Have you explain to her why my father has escaped capture, _again_?"

Vader's firsts curled into balls and his young face twisted into a scowl.

"Anakin Skywalker cannot be allowed to roam free," Vader hissed. "He must be captured and-"

"And _what_? Thrown into the palace again? Pah!" the officer shouted. "You, your sister, and the Empress are all compromised! You're too blinded to the fact that he's an enemy! Skywalker is a traitor and a Jedi dog. The fact he was responsible for the Death Star disaster is a shame to the entire Emp-"

The colonel grabbed at his throat as Vader's outstretched hand curled into a fist. The colonel's death took several long moments, and Piett suspected Vader had drawn it out on purpose.

"Get this scum out of my sight," Vader growled.

The troopers bent down, grabbed the corpse by the arms, and dragged him out.

"Leave us," Vader said to his guards. They left without a word leaving Piett alone with his small commander.

Vader sighed and ran a hand through his hair. The hardness and bravado of Lord Vader was gone, and all Piett saw was the young Prince Luke Amidala he had met three years earlier.

"How many think the same as the colonel?" Vader asked.

"I cannot say, my lord," Piett replied.

"Are we being too soft?" Vader whispered. "He did . . . steal the plans to the Death Star . . . took it to the rebels . . . and then helped blow it up . . . If it was anyone else, he would be dead by now."

"You are probably right, my lord," Piett answered. "But he isn't a normal citizen. He is your father, and I may be speaking out of turn, but you love him. As does the Empress and the Grand Inquisitor."

"But we can't let our personal feelings affect the good of the Empire," Vader muttered. "If Anakin Skywalker . . . is a . . . threat to the Empire . . ."

"Then he will be neutralized," Piett said. "That doesn't mean killed."

Vader looked up at him. He was too young for such games of war. He was barely an adult, and he still longed for his lost father.

"Thank you, captain," Vader said.

Piett nodded. "One way or another, he will be found."

"I hope so."


	13. Day 13: Traitor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sequel to the previous chapter: Darth Vader (Luke) has finally caught up to his father after three years apart. He wants answers as to why Anakin left the Empire and their family.

"I won't fight you, Luke," Anakin said, tossing his saber to the side. It hit the stone floor of the cave and clattered away.

Darth Vader watched it roll away. His own red lightsaber was still lit and he looked down at it. What would he do, Anakin wondered. Would his son fight him?

"Don't call me that," Vader said far too softly.

"That is your name," Anakin said. "Your true name."

Vader, no Luke, took a shaky breath. He deactivated his lightsaber and looked up at his father with watery blue eyes. A sharp stab hit Anakin's heart. There was his boy, his little boy. He took a tentative step forward and opened his arms, but stopped. Would Luke even want-

But Luke did. He tossed his own lightsaber aside and dashed forward. He wrapped his arms around his father, and Anakin hugged him back. They both held each other tightly.

"Father," Luke murmured into Anakin's shoulder. "I missed you."

Anakin rubbed soothing circles on Luke's back and kissed the side of his head. "I did too, little one. I did too."

"Then why?" His voice cracked with sobs. "Why did you leave us? _Why_?"

Anakin squeezed his son tighter. What could he say that wouldn't make this worse? It wasn't because he didn't love his family as he loved them with everything he had . . . but . . . He could no longer turn a blind eye to the rest of the galaxy. He had done that for eighteen years before he finally took a good look at life outside the palace. And once he did, there was no going back. He couldn't ignore it. So he left. He left to make things better and hoped that in the end, rather selfishly, that somehow his family would still be intact.

"I had to," Anakin finally answered. "The Death Star . . . Luke, it should have never been built. I know what your mother has said about it, but . . . it wouldn't have brought peace."

Luke's shoulders shook with a deep sob. "I know," he said as he hands grabbed at Anakin's jacket.

"Come with me," Anakin whispered, almost afraid to say it any louder. Luke leaned back so he could look up at his father. His face was red and stained with tears. "Come with me," Anakin repeated as his flesh hand slid up into Luke's hair.

"I . . ." Luke looked away.

Anakin knew what he was asking. He hated to think that it was asking to tear their family further apart, and he personally didn't see it that way, but Luke did.

"You don't have to keep doing this," Anakin said. No, he pleaded. "You can do good, real good, in this galaxy."

"You mean overthrow mom?"

"I . . ."

What could he say to that? He had joined the Alliance to Restore the Republic. The goal was to bring down the Empire . . . which meant dethroning Padme . . .

"Oh please answer that one, _father_."

A chill ran down his back as both father and son turned and saw someone else standing in the cave.

"Leia," Anakin whispered.

She stood straight and tall wearing her sharp white Grand Inquisitor uniform. She walked forward with her jaw set and golden eyes narrowed. Her right hand hovered above her lightsaber.

"What are you doing Luke?" Leia hissed as she came to a stop in the middle of the cave. "You weren't falling for his lies were you?"

Anakin felt Luke tremble.

"They weren't lies," Anakin said as he slowly let go of Luke and stepped around him.

He didn't turn his gaze from Leia, but he did locate his lightsaber in the Force. He didn't want to summon it to him, but he would . . . Leia . . . Leia wasn't as soft hearted as her brother. She wouldn't be swayed by his words easily.

"They weren't? So you are trying to overthrow the Empire? Overthrow mother? Your _wife_?" Leia grew angier with each word.

"Leia . . ."

Her lightsaber jumped to her hand and ignited with a snap-hiss.

"Anakin Skywalker, you are a traitor to the Empire," Leia said between clenched teeth. "By the personal order of Empress Amidala, you are to be detained and brought before the throne. So stop whatever sweet words you have for me and start thinking of what you can say to beg forgiveness from the Empress."

"Leia," Luke said in a feeble attempt to stop what was about to happen, but Anakin knew. It had already started and there was no stopping it.

His own lightsaber jumped into his hand. He hadn't wanted to fight Luke, and he didn't want to fight Leia. He would disarm her and knock her out if he had to. He was going to save the galaxy _and_ his family . . .

He underestimated his daughter and how deep her anger and hurt ran. How betrayed she felt. How much she grieved over the loss of her family. These strong emotions fueled her powers in the Dark Side . . .

Once Anakin had fallen, his legs cut off, Luke had tried to come to his father's help. But Leia had beaten him too by slicing off his arm. Now father and son were strapped to a medical hover table on route back to Imperial Center. He didn't know what Padme had in store for him, but he prayed to the Force for her to have mercy on their son.


	14. Day 14: Insult & Possibilities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 3 and sequel to the two previous chapters. Anakin has been captured and taken to the Imperial Palace where he meets his wife, Empress Amidala, for the first time since he defected three years ago.

Anakin woke up not in a detention center or in a medical room, but in a lush and posh bedroom. The bed was made out of real wood with four posts and a canopy overhead made of rich red fabric with vines sewn in gold thread. The bed was far too soft for his liking. He pushed himself up and pulled back the covers and saw the stumps that were now his legs.

He sighed. His heart was heavy as he leaned back into the pile of pillows.

Leia . . .

His own daughter . . .

He pinched his nose with his flesh hand.

He shouldn't have left. He should have stayed. Stayed with Padme. Stayed with Luke and Leia and made sure they went on the right path. He thought he had timed it right. Luke and Leia had just turned eighteen. They were adults. They could handle themselves. He _trusted_ them to do the right thing. He raised them and was so proud of them . . .

But he hadn't expected the blow his own absence would cause. He had no idea what a pillar he had been in their lives, and with him gone . . . Luke had become the dreaded Darth Vader, a highly successful military commander, and Leia the Grand Inquisitor. A spot she earned by disposing of the previous one. Both took up jobs so they could go out into the galaxy to find him. To find their father.

Well. Now he was back. Back in the prison he had lived in for eighteen years. It hadn't been all bad. In fact, as long as Anakin focused on his family, it was a good and happy life. As long as he didn't look outside to see the state of the galaxy . . . Didn't dwell too much on what his wife was doing . . .

This was all his fault. He was to blame for the state of the galaxy. When Sheev Palpatine revealed he was the Sith Lord, Anakin had told the truth to Mace Windu who went to apprehend him. But the Jedi had failed and Palpatine was voted Emperor. Anakin wasn't at the temple as it burned, instead he was by Padme's side as clones stormed their apartment and they were taken to the newly crowned Emperor.

He offered Anakin a place at his side. He would become his new Sith Apprentice, but Anakin said no. That was when Padme called out and fell to the ground. Palpatine laughed and explained she and her unborn child were dying. The only way to save her was through his knowledge of the Dark Side.

He wasn't going to lose Padme or their baby.

But he wasn't going to join Palpatine either . . .

And somehow he saw it. He saw how Padme's life was being stolen away by Palpatine in the Force, and Anakin grabbed it. He wanted to rip it apart and stop it. He wanted Palpatine to give Padme her life back. He wanted her to live.

It went wrong.

It went horribly wrong.

Anakin didn't just give Padme her life back, but he also gave her Palpatine's life as well. Palpatine's power in the Force. Palpatine's darkness.

Palpatine's body died but his consciousness still lived in his wife, so he dove into her mind and destroyed him at a terrible cost to himself. He laid in a coma for months, and when he woke up the galaxy had changed. He was a father to twins and the husband to an Empress.

Anakin had failed in destroying the darkness from Padme, and he had no idea how to get rid of what remained. How to change her back. He was too weak and there were his babies. His precious little babies that he just wanted to spend all the time he had with. Plus, when Padme was home with him and the twins, she was just like the Padme he had always known. Soft and sweet and smart.

If he didn't look too closely, he could pretend it was alright.

The door slid open and he looked up not surprised to see her, his wife, walk in. She was dressed in a simple dress with a dark blue robe. She had no makeup on and her hair was down in loose curls. Even now, seeing her made his heart beat faster. He loved her still.

She came to a stop at the edge of his bed.

"Padme," he said softly.

"Anakin," she replied. There was no venom in her words. No anger. No grief. She sounded tired.

He had thought about this meeting the moment he had left three years ago, and despite all that time, he had never been able to find the words he would use. He still didn't know what to tell her despite having so much inside of him he wanted to say.

Her eyes were looking at his legs.

"I wouldn't have minded fitting you with some prosthetics," she said. But then she looked back up at him with those gold eyes of hers. "But I think we'll forgo them for now."

"Keeps me from running away."

A small frown pulled at her lips. "I don't want to keep you chained up, Anakin."

"Don't need to if I don't have any legs."

She sighed and stepped closer. He couldn't help but hold out his hand, his flesh hand, and she took it. He pulled her hand to his lips and gave it a soft kiss.

What would have happened if he had gone with Mace when he went to apprehend Palpatine? What if he had agreed to become Palpatine's apprentice? There were so many what-if's. So many possibilities. He liked to imagine there was just one thing he could have done differently and it would have been the right thing.

All of them, Padme, Luke, and Leia, could be living happily together as a normal family.

"I missed you," he whispered against her skin.

"Then why didn't you come back home?"

He sighed. "I can't watch the galaxy burn because of my actions."

She took another step closer and her other hand slid into his hair.

"Ani, is that what you think?"

"I'm sorry, Padme. I should have done more . . . I . . ."

"Oh my love," she said softly. "Don't insult me. The galaxy is the way I want it, with a few minor annoying expectations. It could have been perfect if only you hadn't destroyed my pet project. Isn't this what you wanted? A galaxy where people were forced to agree? One of peace?"

"How can you call this peace?"

"And the years of war were peaceful?"

He had to look away. He couldn't look at her right now.

"Don't worry," she said as she started to stroke his hair. "Now that you're home, my military can destroy the Rebellion without restraint. Soon it will be gone and peace will finally come."

He doubted that but said nothing as he leaned forward and let his wife wrap her arms around as he did the same for her.


	15. Day 15: Cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuing the AU from the previous three. (Sorry, but not sorry.) Luke struggles to deal with the aftermath of having his hand cut off by his sister.

Luke wasn't just cold, he was freezing. He couldn't feel the tips of his fingers or toes, and his body shook with violent shivering.

He had never been cold like this all of his life even when his family took vacations to snowy planets and he and Leia would play outside for hours. Even space had never felt this cold.

His teeth chattered as he pulled layers of blankets closer to him. He had a bedsheet, a comforter, two blankets, and then a large thick furry blanket the servants had provided when he asked for more. Perhaps he should ask for a heated blanket, but would it make any difference? The heat was already turned up in his room.

Yet regardless of all that he was cold, and he knew that coldness was coming from within himself.

It had started the very moment he had heard his father was missing. A chill had run down his spine as a heavy weight landed in his stomach. He had been naive at first, as they all had been, in hoping this hadn't been intentional despite all the signs that Anakin Skywalker had left on his own. Surely he had been coerced or blackmailed or threatened or something! His father wouldn't have left on his own! Why would he?

Anakin was an amazing father. Not to belittle Padme, but she was the Empress and running the Empire kept her busy. Anakin was a stay-at-home dad. He had never taken up an official position within the Empire though Padme had offered several times. He was just happy to be with his children and adore them, and his children adored him back.

Anakin taught them how to use the Force and fight with lightsabers. How to build droids and fix a ship and to fly it. And when one of the twins had decided to pursue their own hobbies, Anakin was always supportive.

Anakin Skywalker was like the sun. Happy. Warm. Light. And without him . . . Luke's life dulled. All of their lives dulled. And the coldness set in.

It grew worse as the reports and evidence started to come in. Anakin hadn't just left, he had _defected_ and joined the Rebels.

Why? Why would he do that?

They were all heartbroken, and they wanted to know why. What had they done? Why would he leave them and join their enemies?

" _You will be known as Darth Vader,_ " his mother had said proudly when he swore himself to her. " _I shall give you command of a fleet. Find your father. Bring him home._ "

He swore he would.

And he wasn't alone. Leia chose the path of becoming an Inquisitor and soon stole the title of Grand Inquisitor.

" _We'll find him_ ," Leia had told him.

But as time went on, Luke grew colder. His stomach turned to ice as he watched the test shot of the Death Star on Jeddah and later on Scarif. His lungs froze watching Alderaan blow up. But his heart iced over as he recognized his father's Force signature in an X-Wing flying along a trench on the Death Star, which would later deliver the destructive blow.

There was no mistake. Anakin had joined the Rebellion . . . He had chosen them over his own family!

No!

They would fix this! _They would!_

Luke would find him and talk some sense into his father. They would return home and their light and warmth would be there. And everything would be back to the way it was.

But it wasn't the way it was. Anakin was back. Luke was back. Leia was back. They were all back, and it was the coldest Luke had ever been.

Especially his right hand. It was nothing but ice. So cold he couldn't even feel it. He flexed his new prosthetic fingers. He knew it was made of wire and synthskin, but all he could feel was ice at the end of his wrist. It felt like soon that ice would crawl down his arm and claim every bit of him until he was cold and dead.

He was only vaguely aware of the passing of time. His mother came in the evenings to coax him out of bed with warm tea and hot soup. She would wrap him up in fresh warm blankets and have a hot bath drawn for him. She would sit next to him on the small sofa in his room and hold him and say all the sweet words a mother should say.

She was proud of him. He did the right thing. She loved him. Everything would be alright.

There was a warmth to her that he would lean in towards and greedily soak up, wanting to chase away the chill. But it was always fleeting. It always had been like that with her. The warmth left with her unlike Anakin. Luke's father was warm, large, and bright. His warmth lingered long after he left a room.

When Anakin had left, Luke often found himself in the spots his father spent time in. Anakin's workshop, the hangar, his bedroom, and the living room. Luke could still hear the faint echoes of his father's laughter and feel the barely-there warmth.

But now the palace was cold even with Anakin in it again. Luke could sense his father. He was near. So very near. But it was odd. Luke had chased after his father for three years, and now that he was back home, it felt foreign. And worse of all, despite how bright Anakin made things, he hadn't chased off the cold.

Luke awoke shivering and unsure of the time but the sky outside his windows were dark. He was going to pull his covers to him and go back to sleep, but stopped when noticed the dark hair at the edge of his bed. He slowly pushed himself up.

"Leia?" His voice wavered.

She didn't move. Didn't flinch.

She sat on the floor next with her back against the side of his bed and her arms wrapped around her knees.

"Leia?" he asked again.

Nothing.

He moved closer to the edge of the bed, reached out to her, and . . . stopped as he looked at his hand. His fake hand. The one she had cut off. The one that was so cold. He withdrew it back to the covers.

He didn't know what to say. He wasn't even sure what he felt about what she had done. Anger? Grief? They stayed like that for a long time. Both quiet and unmoving. Both painfully aware of the other.

Luke moved to the other side of his bed.

"Hey, come in," he said as he lifted the covers up. Leia looked over her shoulder. "Comfier in here."

She blinked and waited a long moment before she slowly got up and crawled into the bed. They laid side by side looking at each other. Dark bags were under her eyes and she looked thin and pale.

"Luke. I . . ."

"You don't have to say anything. It's ok, Leia. I forgive you."

She blinked. There was a tremble to her lips. Was she going to cry? He rolled over to his back in case she did that way he wouldn't be watching.

"I understand," he said.

And he did. He wasn't sure when he had realized it, perhaps at this very moment, but he understood her. She was like him. Lost and adrift without the steady presence of their father, and they just wanted things to be right. She was angry with him for joining the Rebellion and fighting against the Empire. Against them . . .

And then she had walked on that conversation between Luke and Anakin. What all had she heard? But he knew the fear that had pierced her heart. She had already lost her father and now she was going to lose her brother, her twin and other half as well. And the anger overtook her.

Searing, burning, cold anger that completely blinded her at the moment, but now . . .

Now she was as hollow and cold as he was desperately seeking warmth.


	16. Day 16: Always

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Twelve-year-old Luke has been captured and being held for ransom against his father, Darth Vader. 

Luke squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to stop the tears that were forming. He wasn't going to cry. Not in front of these terrorist scum. He was the son of Darth Vader. He was a fighter. A duelist. A pilot. A citizen of the mighty Galactic Empire. He was . . .

Scared.

His father wasn't going to pay a ransom. He didn't negotiate with enemies of the Empire. Even if Vader did accept the bargain for Luke . . . He could easily imagine standing in front of Vader, who would tower over the small twelve-year-old and with his thumbs looped into his belt as his helmet tilted down. Luke swore he could already feel the waves of disappointment and disdain that would soon be followed by anger and punishment.

Vader was a harsh commander and an equally harsh father. He always pushed Luke to do it again, but faster, harder, more and more and more.

" _I know you can do it_ ," Vader growled when Luke would fail to live up to his high expectations. " _Do it again_."

And again.

And again . . .

These terrorists had made a mistake in taking Luke. Vader didn't care or at least care enough. There was no parental warmth from that man. Luke's days were a series of never-ending lessons taught by cold droids, meals all alone at a table, and training with his father in either the ways of the Force, fighting, or piloting with an occasional lesson in ship mechanics.

Holidays aren't celebrated in the Vader household. Luke didn't even know how old his father was much less when his birthday was. For his own birthday, Luke would get a very small cake and a present, usually, something practical like the hydrospanner he got last year or a biography holobook on some queen of Naboo when he turned ten. He didn't get toys or go on vacations, though he had seen a lot of the galaxy from the viewport of his father's star destroyers.

Vader only seemed to act the part of a father. Otherwise, he was cold and distant, and Luke knew he would not be paying the massive amount of credits the terrorists had demanded.

Luke watched the terrorists; they were getting impatient and antsy. Should they send another message? It would be the fourth one they sent, and Vader had only responded to the second one. He said that they should release his son and he might be merciful and grant them a quick death. The terrorists had only laughed. Vader wasn't going to find them. They were out in the middle of nowhere.

Except that he did, and Luke was the only one who felt it as Vader exited hyperspace dangerously close.

The Force grew cold and thick and Luke struggled to keep his breathing even. His father was here. Darth Vader was here. And he was angry. Very, very angry.

Luke squeezed his eyes, and a small tear escaped and ran down his cheek.

His father had come. Why? What was going to happen to him? Luke had never been punished too harshly. Usually, he was confined to his rooms or given chores, but he knew his father. He had witnessed him kill without thought or mercy for anything that had displeased him.

What would Vader think of him? He hadn't been able to fight off the terrorists as they took him. He should have been able to. He should have used the Force to push them off or choke them or something. But he froze. All that training, and he had frozen.

A sharp inky coldness slithered into the spaceship until it found Luke. It wound itself tightly around him, and he let out a small yelp. Only one terrorist gave him a look, but quickly dismissed it and looked away.

How was Vader arriving? In a Star Destroyer? Would he blast the whole ship to pieces? Or perhaps he was coming in his fighter? Rip the ship apart piece by piece? Regardless, no one beside Luke seemed to know of Vader's fast approach. No alarms went off. No comms chimed. The terrorists were relaxed and joking.

Even when Luke was sure Vader was now on the ship, there was nothing. No reactions as the dark maelstrom that was Darth Vader's force presence slowly but surely made its way directly towards them. Luke wished his arms weren't bound behind his back. Then he could wipe his face off and make it look like he had been brave instead of crying.

His heart was pounding in his chest as he watched the door as any moment now, any second, it would open. It felt like his heart was going to explode. It was growing colder and the air felt thick. He shivered and his teeth chattered.

The door slid open rather anticlimactically.

Two terrorists looked over when they heard the door unlatch and quietly slide open, and all of them looked over as they heard the first of the rhythmic breaths. There were two breaths, two moments of stunned silence before the chaos erupted. The terrorists went for their blasters, but the one was already dangling in the air choking. The first blast was knocked aside with a snap-hiss as Vader's red lightsaber ignited.

Darth Vader walked casually forward. No bolts appeared to hit him but bounced back into some of the terrorists who fell over dead. Those who did not were slashed apart by a lightsaber or choked with the Force. Far too quickly it ended and all that was left standing was Vader with his lightsaber lit as he looked down at the dead men.

His saber slid back into its hilt and his helmet turned to look directly at Luke, who felt his father's eyes on him. He looked down unable to even look at his father. He felt his cheeks grow hot and his eyes started to water.

Do not cry. Do not cry.

Black boots came to a stop in front of him, and he watched as the cape settled around them. With each breath of Vader's respirator, hairs on the back of Luke's neck stood on end. He felt smooth leather against his cheek. He flinched and tried to pull away, but his father was too fast and strong. Vader gripped Luke's chin and lifted it up so Luke _had_ to look at him.

The mask was the same as always. Black with red lenses. Sharp angular lines. If he looked close enough, Luke would be able to make out his reflection.

Vader's thumb ran across Luke's cheek. Luke flinched as the thumb pressed against a large bruise that had formed from when he had been back-handed.

"Their deaths were far too quick," Vader rumbled.

A tear rolled down Luke's cheek and his lip trembled, and thankfully Vader's hand withdrew. With a flick of a gloved finger, the binders around Luke's wrist opened. Luke rubbed his sore and raw wrists with unsteady hands.

"Come," Vader demanded.

Luke nodded and stood up. His body ached and screamed at him. Wounds flared up that had eased while he was sitting. Vader had already turned around and was walking towards the door. Luke took one step and pain tore up his leg. He cried out and fell to the floor. He couldn't stop the tears as his twisted ankle throbbed.

This was pathetic. He was pathetic. His father must be ashamed. He just wanted to curl up and disappear.

Large hands grabbed him. His father had returned. What would he do? Shake him? Choke him?

Instead, Vader cradled Luke to his chest.

Luke looked up at his father with bleary eyes. All he could do was blink in hopes it would clear his vision, and he could make sense of what was happening. The mask was tilted down; Vader was looking at him. Then without a word, Vader looked away and walked out of the room.

Was he . . . _carrying_ Luke out?

"Fa- father . . ."

Vader didn't stop, but he did look down at him.

"Why did you come?" It was barely more than a whisper half obscured by the sound of the respirator.

"Of course, I would come," Vader said. "I will always come, Luke."

The trembling stopped as Luke's vision cleared. He could just make out eyes behind the lenses, but then Vader looked away. Luke let his head rest against his father's shoulder. His father's words repeated in his mind.

He would always come.

Always.


	17. Day 17: Separation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sequel to the previous fic, but told from Vader's POV. Twelve-year-old Luke has been kidnapped and is being held for ransom. 

Luke has been taken.

Darth Vader's hands curled into tight fists.

Some _scum_ had kidnapped his son, and now they _dared_ make demands for his safe return? He was going to kill them. He was going to kill every single one of them that had laid a hand on his boy or had even dared to look at him.

Vader stormed into his personal hanger. His ship was prepped and ready. He had debated on taking a shuttle, but he wanted something fast, stealthy, and with guns. Plus, Luke was small enough to fit inside the cockpit with him.

_What if the boy needed medical attention? A shuttle will be better._

Vader pushed that thought aside. The scum wouldn't hurt Luke yet. They hadn't gotten that desperate for their reward. He still had time, but only if he was fast. And his fighter would be faster.

His ship screamed out of the hanger and away from his fleet. He wasted no time in jumping to hyperspace. He wasn't completely sure where Luke was, but he could feel his son's presence in the Force as there was no mistaking the bright light that was Luke. It was hard to get an exact location, and it would mean multiple jumps to narrow it down.

During his trips through hyperspace between jumps, he tried to focus on his anger on the terrorists who had taken his son, but he couldn't stop his worry. He couldn't stop thinking about his Luke.

How had such a thing happened? How had scum managed to get past the guards and defenses to get to Luke? How had he _failed_ in protecting his son?

He had made sure to keep his little one safe over the years. He kept Luke by his side as much as possible, making sure his personal quarters on any of his destroyers had a small room for him. He handbuilt all the droids that cared and tutored Luke, while he trained the boy in the Force himself. Luke was so talented and bright. He had to often push him hard as otherwise, it would be too easy. One day Luke would outshine even him.

When he did have downtime, he tried to share his passions with his son like showing him how to work on ships. He had even custom ordered a hydrospanner that perfectly fit Luke's hand for his birthday last year. Yet often such moments were short. Vader had a job to do; a galaxy that needed peace. It was that job that had called him away from his son, who was now in the hands of pathetic worms.

But no matter. Vader was here and would soon be reunited with his son as his many jumps were at an end. Floating in the middle of nowhere before him was a decent sized freighter. A ship that easily passed for unassuming, but Vader could _feel_ Luke. The boy was on that ship. There was no mistake.

It wasn't long until Vader's boots landed with a heavy thud into the hallway of the ship. The airlock in the ceiling above him hissed shut. These fools were pathetic. They hadn't been scanning for approaching ships, and he had easily docked unnoticed. Whether they knew he was coming or not didn't matter. They would all be dead soon anyway; nothing would change that now.

The slaughter was effortless. The terrorists were dead, he clipped his lightsaber to his belt as he marched to his small son sitting in a chair with his hands bound behind his back. Luke was staring at his lap, and Vader gently put his hand under the boy's chin. Luke flinched but Vader held on tight as he lifted Luke's face.

No wonder he had flinched. Luke's face had a large purpling bruise on one side. Vader gently slid his thumb across it, and again Luke winced in pain.

"Their deaths were far too quick," Vader said. His voice was tight as he tried to control his anger.

They had hurt his son. _They had hurt his son._

His anger threatened to bubble out of him. He let his hand drop, and with the flick of his other hand opened the binders with the Force. He turned away as he glared at the lifeless forms of the scum who had injured his little boy. He clenched his jaw and ground his teeth. Their deaths had been too quick and merciful. He should have dragged it out much longer.

"Come," he said. He couldn't be here much longer. His anger was clawing at him too much. He wanted to lash out. He wanted to destroy everything around him.

A cry immediately caused him to whip around. Luke was falling, and Vader was there to catch him. His boy was trembling and his eyes were watery as Luke looked up at him. His lip wobbled, and Vader's heart broke. He wasted no time in scooping up his son and cradling him to his chest.

He turned around, and without looking at the bodies, left the room. He had to get Luke back to his fleet where he could get proper medical care.

"Fa- father . . ." Luke said. His voice uneven and holding back a sob.

Vader didn't stop, but he did look down.

"Why did you come?" Luke whispered so softly he almost didn't make the words out.

"Of course, I would come," Vader said. "I will always come, Luke."

Luke blinked a few times as he looked up at Vader, who just held his son a tiny bit tighter. He felt Luke relax and he rested his head on his father's shoulder.

Had Luke doubted he would come? Of course, he would come. Nothing would ever separate them again.


	18. Day 18: Condemned and Things Left Unsaid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darth Vader survived the destruction of the second Death Star. He was arrested and has been providing the Alliance with intel on the Empire. Despite his corporation, he is still a criminal in the eyes of the Alliance and the New Republic.

The door, after what felt like an eternity but was only a few seconds, finally slid open. Luke took a deep breath and managed to swallow despite the large lump in his throat. He stepped into the large cell and the door immediately closed behind him. He looked at the floor as his hands curled slowly into fists. He couldn't look up. He couldn't . . .

The cell was made of white plastoid and pale metal with bright lights. It almost hurt his eyes to be in here, but it wasn't just his eyes that hurt. It felt like each breath was a fight to push out, and his heart raced in his chest. His mouth was dry yet he couldn't stop swallowing. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end and he was breaking out with a cold sweat. A cold sinking feeling was getting worse and worse inside of him. He blinked back the tears forming in his eyes, took a deep but unsteady breath and looked up.

Across the room, his father waited in his chair.

Anakin Skywalker reclined in a large chair wearing a white medical gown. Various medical machines were all around him beeping and blinking. Tubes and wires of various sizes went from machine to man and back to machine. He had no limbs, only the smooth durasteel connectors where limbs could attach to. His skin was pale and horribly scarred that both sagged and stretched tight. A clear breathing mask covered his lower face and there was a faint sound of air being forced in and out.

"Luke," Anakin said. His voice barely more than a wheeze.

"F- father."

Luke moved across the room and sat down on the small stool that was waiting for him next to the large chair. Anakin wasn't looking at Luke, instead, his eyes focused on the far wall. Luke turned around and noticed the lights next to the security holocamera were off. He turned around, and Vader had closed his eyes and his body relaxed.

The Alliance had kept their promise. The cameras would be turned off. No one was watching.

There was no point in any more recordings anyway. Everything Anakin was going to tell the Alliance had been said. High Command still felt like there were still things he knew but hadn't shared despite the massive amounts of information about the dead Emperor and the Empire Anakin had already shared.

None of this had been done out of the kindness of Anakin's heart. He had done it for Luke and Leia. Luke wondered if Leia herself had come here and asked for the remaining secrets, would Anakin have finally handed them over? Was it some bargaining chip to see his daughter? Regardless, Leia refused. Anakin never got his reunion with his daughter . . . and never would . . .

Whatever was left unsaid would go with Anakin when he died in a few short hours. The first major thing the new Galactic Senate had done upon its creation was to hold a large and long public court case against Darth Vader. It went through Vader's twenty-three-year long career as the right-hand man of Emperor Palpatine and Supreme Commander. There was no defense on Anakin's part. He said nothing until the very end when they asked if he was guilty of these crimes and he agreed. Luke wondered if all of it was true. Surely some of it had to be embellished or false, but Anakin never argued. Never flinched, not even when he heard his punishment.

Death.

Luke wasn't surprised; he knew that was going to happen. Yet, he still wasn't prepared when the sentencing finally came down. And now the day of Darth Vader's execution was here. Luke had pleaded the case for it to be private, though there were some who wanted it broadcasted across the galaxy. Surprisingly, Leia agreed. She gave a passionate but short speech to the Senate about how Darth Vader's legacy should die here and now, and no more fame and attention should be wasted on the Empire. Let it go quietly, without fanfare. Anakin had watched the speech from here in his cell. His eyes never left Leia. The vote had been close, but it had been decided that Vader's execution would be small and private.

As a last request, Anakin had requested he talk with his children. Alone. No recordings.

Leia still refused to speak to her biological father, even though it would be her last chance. So Luke found himself here alone. He knew this would be the last time he would speak to his father alive.

Despite a million words burning inside of him, his tongue was heavy, and he didn't know where to start.

They had already talked so much. Luke was in here as much as he could. It wasn't just getting information about the Empire, but about the Force and the Jedi. Anakin was reluctant to talk about the Jedi Order, which considering his role in its destruction wasn't that surprising.

" _Make it better, Luke_ ," Anakin would say. " _Do it right this time._ "

There was still so much Luke wanted to know. He was still making sense of the Force and figuring out the history of the Jedi and how the Order worked and . . . and . . .

"Luke."

Luke realized he had been staring at his lap. He looked up and his vision blurred over with tears.

"My son," Anakin said with a warm smile.

Luke smiled back, but couldn't stop the tears rolling down his face.

"There is . . . so much . . . that has been left unsaid. I wish I could say it all to you, but I doubt I have time to."

Luke could only nod. He tried to swallow, but the lump in his throat was too big.

"I don't want to talk about the Force or Jedi or the Empire," Anakin continued.

Luke's brows furrowed as a sob bubbled up out of him. Oh Force, how was he going to make it through this?

"I want to talk about your mother . . ."

Luke's brows shot up. His mother? Despite all the long talks, Anakin had never talked about Luke's mother. Luke had been brave enough to ask once or twice with Leia's insistence. Each time, Anakin got a distant look in his blue eyes and shook his head. Luke had learned that Anakin didn't like talking about himself, so despite the hours upon hours the two had talked, he still knew very little about his father.

But now . . .

 _Now_. . . here at the end . . .

"Her name," Anakin said, "was Padme Amidala."

There was a long pause that was filled with the sounds of the various medical machines that kept Anakin alive whirring and beeping.

"She was an angel," Anakin whispered.

He closed his eyes and Luke watched a few tears slide down the white scarred cheeks. Luke's own tears continued to fall.

"I loved her," Anakin continued. "And . . . she . . . loved me . . . and . . . you."

Anakin opened his eyes and smiled.

"She loved you, Luke. You and your sister. When she told me she was pregnant, it was the happiest day of my life."

Luke couldn't fight back the sobs anymore. His entire body shook and thick hot tears rolled down his face. Luke scooted his stool closer and placed his hand, his flesh hand, on his father's upper arm.

"We met when I was nine years old, and the moment I saw her I knew she was an angel . . ."


	19. Day 19: Embrace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke has been raised by the Sith. After spending years with Darth Sidious, he is turned over to his father Darth Vader to prove himself. (This ficlet has been previously published on my tumblr.)

Vader stood at the edge of the grated platform. Fifty feet below and under a ray shield, lava boiled and roared along a river edged in newly formed black rock. The platform vibrated, a sensation Vader barely registered himself through his prosthetic legs, as a figure landed hard against the metal with a pained grunt. The young teen snarled as he got his legs back under him and his red lightsaber up before his attacker jumped down on him. The large creature was double the boy's size and dressed in crude armor, tattered clothes, and a metal helmet. It fought with a lightsaber so haphazardly made the blade come out uneven.

Despite the physical difference, the boy met the heavy blow head-on. He used the brute's momentum to push him off to the side so he could jump back up to his feet. His saber swirled in his hand as adjusted his footing and grip. The brute did not waste time doing the same as he let out a low frustrated growl and charged forward. He swung another blow then another and another. The boy met each one but was struggling. His swings were slowing. Sweat matted his hair and dripped down his face. His breath was labored.

Vader gritted his teeth and looped his thumbs through his belt loops as he watched his thirteen-year-old son continue his test. His body was tense. His right hand ached to grab his saber hanging on his belt and slash the mindless brute in half. But no; he would not. It was a test of Luke's training.

Luke let out a yelp of pain as the brute landed a hard kick on the small chest. The boy went flying to the edge of the platform. Vader flinched. A flicker of his internal conflict to stop this. Luke was losing, and he should end it. But the boy would be angry if he did, so Vader stayed still and watched.

Luke still had a chance to win. He had become distracted by the fight and had loosened his hold on the Force. If he deepened and strengthened his connection, this pathetic lifeform of a Dark Side cult would be dead by now. Vader knew his son's power, his potential, and it was disappointing to see Luke do so poorly now.

The cultist slashed down at the prone boy, but Luke rolled and the lightsaber barely missed him. Luke snapped his hand up and threw a clumsy Force push. The brute staggered, which gave him time to get to his feet, but then pushed on without a second thought. Blows were exchanged again. The lightsabers hummed and hissed, and sparks flew when one dug into the metal of the platform.

Luke had lost his offensive edge; he was now completely on the defensive as the brute pushed forward. Vader's hand was now on his saber hilt, which was still latched to his belt. The leather of his glove creaked as his grip tightened. He wouldn't interfere unless he had to. Unless there was no other choice. He had to give Luke a chance to prove himself.

But the boy tripped. His blue eyes went wide as his head hit the metal too hard and he lost his grip on his saber which rolled away. The brute gave a victory shout as he leapt into the air with his saber pointed right at Luke's chest . . .

The saber didn't even scratch Luke's sweat-stained tunic.

It hovered a few inches above the boy, frozen. Frozen like the rest of the creature. Luke only blinked up at it; he was still stunned. It didn't matter. The test was over. Vader approached with his left hand out and used it to focus the Force around the brute and keep him still. His right hand had freed his saber and ignited it. He took pleasure cutting the creature into pieces.

"Fa- father."

Vader turned and looked down at his son.

* * *

Luke had managed to use his elbows to prop himself up just in time to watch his opponent's body hit the metal grates with a sickening thud.

He had failed.

"Fa- father." His voice wavered. He meant it to sound strong. Fierce. Instead, it was weak and wavered.

Darth Vader turned around and the lightsaber slid back into a hilt with a soft hiss as the black helmet tilted down to look at Luke.

Luke swallowed. There was a lump in his dry throat.

"I would have won," he finally managed to say. His words had come out better this time.

"No."

Luke flinched. His father's voice was always deep and cutting. Luke tried to swallow again and stuck his chin up a bit higher.

"I had-"

"You did not," Vader said as he pointed a finger at Luke. "That was a killing blow."

Luke gritted his teeth and his hands curled into tight fists. He looked away.

"Then I would have died," he said. "It would have been only the appropriate punishment for my failure. I do not know why you stopped it."

Vader moved; Luke could see it out of his peripheral vision. He tensed ready for a blow, for him to be seized by the Force, for anything . . . but nothing came. He cautiously but curiously turned to face Vader, who was down on one knee next to him.

"I stopped it because I was scared I would lose you," Vader said.

. . . _what_?

Luke stilled as he stared into the dark red lenses but knowing he was making eye contact with the man behind them.

"Master Sidious said-" Luke said.

Vader cut him off. "I was not about to watch my son die."

He held out his hand, the same one that had pointed accusingly at him moments before. Luke looked at it and wondered if this was part of the test. Should he summon his lightsaber to him and attack? Master had warned him that Vader wasn't to be trusted even though he was his father.

But . . .

Luke grabbed the hand. Vader's grip was strong and tight as he pulled Luke up along with him. He stumbled forward as his mind spun and vision blurred. Strong hands wrapped around him and he was lifted off his feet. As the spinning stopped, he realized his father was carrying him. He opened his mouth to speak, to demand Vader's intention, but the words died before they even formed. He rested his head against the hard shoulder armor and closed his eyes.


	20. Day 20: Enigmatic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Piett has been tasked with going to Tatooine to get in contact with the Lars family when he gets a ride by a young man named Luke.

* * *

Captain Firmus Piett stepped out of the Anchorhead Imperial Outpost. When he had arrived at the planet, the suns were just rising. Now that they were fully up, the heat was much stronger and he already felt himself starting to sweat. He sighed and started walking down the street if one could even call it that. It was merely a straight line of sand between buildings. There was no pavement or any other markers.

He made his way to the only transport store in the small town and asked about renting a speeder. The man at the shop took a long look at him, gave him a toothy smile, and threw out an outrageous price one would expect of a luxury speeder on Coruscant. Piett nodded and walked out. The man laughed and hollered that there weren't any other speeders to rent in town.

That may be so, but perhaps he could borrow a speeder from a local. He had been given a large budget and could afford the price, but it was the principle of the thing. He was sure the store owner had taken one good look at him, saw the Imperial officer uniform, and raised the price.

Piett stopped in the shade of a building and looked up and down the street. There wasn't much here. Perhaps he should try the catina? Hopefully, there would be someone there willing to give him a ride for a few rounds of drinks.

He sighed and glanced in the direction he had parked his rented shuttle on the outskirts of town. He was uneasy about this mission, but he wasn't one to turn down such a request from his superior. Especially one that seemed so personal.

" _I do not know if I can trust anyone else with this task, Captain._ "

This mission did not fall into his normal expectations of being a captain of a star destroyer. In fact, it was very far removed from that. He had never done anything like this. It felt more like detective work or reconnaissance. Veers would have been a better choice for such a role than him.

As he walked down the dusty street, he eyed a mechanic shop where a sign outside read Fixer's Garage. He would rather not have to depend on a local driver if he could. He wondered if he could just buy a speeder and then sell it back when he was finished. He walked into the store and was soon met by a young man with dark hair and a dark leather jacket on top of a sand-stained white tunic. The man paused as he noted Piett's uniform and a small frown pulled on his lips.

"Can I help you?" he asked.

"I'm looking to buy a speeder. Got any?"

"Not any at the outpost?"

The Imperial Outpost did have speeders Piett could have used, but again he was ordered to avoid leaving any recordable trace of his visit, especially through the Imperial records. The official reason Piett was off his ship was that he was visiting his home planet, which was where he had gone first. Then he rented a small ship to fly to Tatooine.

"All taken," Piett replied. "Honestly, I'm just looking to rent one for the day and return it. But I wouldn't mind buying one if it's reasonably priced."

"Don't got any," the shopkeep said with a shrug of the shoulders.

"Ah. I see. Know anyone I could hire to take me out?"

"Depends. Where you headed?"

"Out to the Salt Flats. There's a homestead out there belonging to a family called the Lars."

"Lars, huh?" The shopkeep looked over his shoulder and shouted, "Hey, Luke! Come out here!"

Piett heard parts falling on the floor and some cursing shortly followed by the sounds of someone approaching.

A youth entered the room wearing a similar sand-stained white tunic as the shopkeep wore.

"Yeah, what's up?" the boy asked.

"This Imp is looking for a ride out to your uncle's place," the shopkeep said.

Luke looked over at Piett. "My uncle's? Why?"

"He's not in any trouble. Pardon the uniform, I only wore it to get access to the outpost records here. But I just have a few questions to ask him."

Luke looked unsure.

"I can pay for the ride," Piett continued. "How about three hundred peggats?"

Both Luke and the shopkeep's eyes went wide. Piett knew it was a very generous offer, but it was still cheaper than renting one. The shopkeep gave young Luke a look that clearly said ' _You better take it_.' Luke looked down at his feet shyly, but then those blue eyes were focused on Piett.

"Sure," he said. "Let me go grab my speeder."

* * *

The land outside of Anchorhead was a featureless blur of sands and occasional rocks. Piett wondered how his young pilot navigated as his speeder's navigational display was broken. But just as Piett could navigate by the stars in the sea of space, this boy could navigate his homeworld.

"My uncle isn't in any trouble?" Luke asked. His voice was raised to be heard over the whipping wind.

"No," Piett responded. "My . . . acquaintance is looking for a lost relative of theirs. They believe the Lars may know something."

"Why didn't they come themselves?"

"Unable to." Luke gave him a questionable glance. "It's a rather complicated situation I'm afraid."

"I don't know if my uncle will know much," Luke said. "He's lived here all of his life. He rarely goes out to the cities. He may not be of much help."

"Even so, I would like to ask."

Luke nodded.

Piett was tempted to ask how much longer the ride would last. He was on a schedule and would need to fly back to Axxila to get his Imperial shuttle before returning to his star destroyer before his leave ended. It would be very unlike him to return late. But he still had time.

Suddenly there was a loud sound and the speeder jerked. His hands snapped out and grabbed on to whatever he could as the vehicle bumped, swerved, and came to a sudden stop. Steam hissed out of the turbo engine on the left side.

"Kriff!" Luke shouted as he jumped over the side.

Piett took a slow steady breath and released the tension in his body.

"I knew I should have flushed out the repulsor and rebalanced it out!"

Piett looked over to see Luke had already popped open the access hatch of the damaged engine. The Lars boy ran a hand through his hair. Piett looked around. They were in the middle of nowhere. No settlements to be seen.

Luke jumped back into the speeder, opened a storage hatch, and pulled out a few tools. Then he was back on the sand tinkering with the engine.

"Sorry," Luke muttered. "Hopefully I'll get this up and running soon."

* * *

Piett had taken off his uniform's jacket. It was placed as neatly as it could on the back of the speeder seat. He stood next to Luke as the youth continued to work on the engine. There had been a few hopeful tries at getting the speeder running again, but each time the left engine sputtered out and start spewing fresh steam.

Piett had asked if there was anyone to call that could come aid them. Luke explained this was his family's only speeder. What about someone back at the town? The shopkeep? Luke avoided answering that question saying he could get the speeder going quickly.

It had not been quick.

In fact, by the time the speeder was up and running, the suns were starting to set. Instead of going forward, Luke turned the speeder around.

"Wait? Where are we going?" Piett asked.

"Back to town," Luke said with a sad note in his voice. "Sorry. But by the time we reach the farm, it will be sunset. You won't be able to leave until morning. You don't want to be out here after dark."

Piett silently agreed. He didn't want to impose on the Lars family, plus his allotted time on Tatooine was running slim. He may not make it back to his ship on time if he stayed the night. There was a sinking feeling in his heart as he realized he had failed. His mind started going over how he was going to word his report. The only thing he could report was that the Lars family was still living on Tatooine, though he had only made contact with a nephew.

"I don't know if I'll be of any help," Luke said, "but maybe I know something about this relative?"

"Ever heard of Anakin Skywalker?"

Luke's face fell. There was a slight swerve in the speeder, but the boy quickly corrected the course. He looked straight ahead at the sand for a long quiet moment. Perhaps Piett wouldn't be going back completely empty-handed.

"Anakin Skywalker is the missing relative?" Luke finally asked. "I didn't know he had any other family."

"Well, he does."

There was another long stretch of silence.

"Sorry to tell you this, but Anakin Skywalker is dead. He's been dead for nineteen years now."

Piett nodded. He wasn't sure what to say; he already knew that. He wasn't here looking for Anakin, but for blood relations of Anakin. The Lars family were related to Anakin through the marriage of his mother, but there was a possibility . . .

"I'm Luke Skywalker," Luke said. "Anakin was my father, though I never met him. There's . . . family . . . looking for me?"

It was Piett's turn to be speechless. He was foolish for assuming this boy was a Lars.

"Can I have your comm frequency?" Piett asked. "To put you into contact with my acquaintance?"

"Yes," Luke said eagerly. "Tell me about this acquaintance."

"Yes, uh . . ."

What was he going to say? What _could_ he say?

"I think it may be your mother's side of the family," Piett said. His voice was calm and even, a skill he had mastered working under Darth Vader.

"My _mother_? I . . . I . . . know nothing of my mother . . ."

Luke looked over so hopeful and eager. It was the look of a little lost boy that yearned to know more of himself. Of his family. Piett's mouth opened. He wanted to say 'I'm so sorry,' but the words never came out.

"I- I'll try to get you in contact with them," he said instead with a tight throat.

Luke smiled. A big genuine smile.

* * *

Piett watched the speeder disappear into the darkening horizon. Then he made his way back to his shuttle. He took his time to wash his face, smooth out his hair, and dust off his jacket. Then he sat down in the pilot's chair and brought out his commlink.

He tried to keep calm as the com chimed to confirm the connection. He waited only a few seconds, but it felt far longer as he heard his heart hammering in his ears, as the call connected.

"Captain Piett?"

He bowed his head. "Your highness, I am calling to report. My mission was a success." He raised his head and looked at the blue hologram face.

"You . . . you found them?"

"I found a boy named Luke Skywalker, who claimed to be the son of Anakin Skywalker."

"Was . . . that all?"

"I . . . I'm afraid I was unable to make it to the Lars homestead. There were some difficulties as my speeder broke down. I can postpone my return to Axxila if that is your wish."

"No. Return to the ship. Thank you, captain."

"You're welcome, your highness."

The blue of the hologram blinked off and the call ended. Piett sighed as he leaned back into his seat. That had gone far better than he expected. He sat up to ready the ship for takeoff but his com chimed again.

Odd.

He accepted the call and his heart fell as he was greeted by an all-too-familiar black mask.

"Captain Piett," boomed the voice of Darth Vader.

"Your- your majesty," Piett stuttered.

"It seems you were just in contact with my wife."

"Yes, your majesty."

"She has sent you on an unauthorized mission. Your location has been tracked to . . . _Tatooine_?"

Piett did not like how Vader had said that name.

"Yes, sir."

"Why are you on Tatooine, captain? Why did my wife send you there?"

What was he going to do? What he was going to say? The Empress hadn't wanted her husband involved.

"It was of a personal nature," Piett said knowing he wasn't going to be able to throw off Vader.

" _Personal_?" Vader growled.

Despite the heat of the planet still lingering inside the shuttle, it was suddenly quite cold.

"Forgive me, sir, she wanted it kept privately."

He didn't dare add 'from you.'

"There is _nothing_ private between my wife and me," Vader said. "My wife has _no_ private personal matters on _that_ planet. Now tell me, Captain Piett, _why_ are you there?"

 _Forgive me, your highness_ , Piett whispered to himself.

"Empress Amidala sent me to Tatooine to find any blood relatives of Anakin Skywalker."

The words had barely left his mouth when Vader spoke. "There are _no blood relatives_ of _Anakin Skywalker_."

Clearly, there were private matters the Empress kept to herself.

"Forgive me, your majesty, but it appears the Empress' suspicions were true."

Vader was silent for two breaths of his loud respirator. " _What_? If you are referring to those _farmers-_ "

"No," Piett said, dangerously interrupting the Emperor. "There was a boy. Luke Skywalker." The slight jerk of Vader's helmet did not go unnoticed. "Who said he was the son of Anakin Skywalker."

"Where . . . where is this boy now?"

"He returned back home. To his uncle's farm."

There was another short pause. "Captain Piett, you will stay there and monitor the boy until I arrive."

"Yes, your majesty," Piett said.

The call ended.

Again, Piett fell back into his seat. He closed his eyes and all he could see was the newly crowned Empress Amidala pulling him into a small private sitting room.

" _I do not know if I can trust anyone else with this task, Captain,_ " she had said. " _You were loyal to my husband during the coup. You also helped free me. What I am about to tell you, you must never tell a single soul, especially my husband._ "

He had to tell the Empress but decided to send her a text message instead of another call. She may be busy talking with her husband.

The message was short and simple: _I have failed. Vader knows._

He was surprised she responded rather quickly.

_I know. Take the twins and run before he gets there._

Piett looked at the message and reread it again.

_Twins?_


End file.
